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‘is the twenty-eighth going over this week 











CAPTAIN LUCY 

AND 

LIEUTENANT BOB 

BY 

ALINE HAVARD 



PHILADELPHIA 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
1918 








COPYRIGHT 
i 9 » 8 BY 
THE PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 



Captain Lucy and Lieutenant Bob 


OCT -9 1918 


0 


©CI.A503792 c 





Introduction 


Some of the girls who read this first story of 
Lucy Gordon’s army life have spent their lives on 
army posts as well as she, and perhaps have even 
lived on Governor’s Island. A good many others, 
though, have only visited posts, and have never felt 
that they knew much about the life of army girls, 
except that it was full of sudden changes. But in 
this last year the American army has grown very 
real and absorbing to every girl in America. Not 
one of them but has become an army girl in spirit, 
with some strong tie to bind her to our posts, to our 
training camps, or to our fighters on the Western 
Front. 

The war is as yet only beginning for Lucy Gor¬ 
don, and the old, pleasant times are just ending, 
but, like every other girl in America, she is trying 
hard to find the courage and cheerfulness which 
have never yet been wanting in our Service and 
which are going to help America to win. 

Aline Havard 


1 




Contents 


,r 


I. 

Marian Arrives 

• 

• 


9 

II. 

Parade .... 

• 

• 


23 

III. 

The Mystery of the Twenty-Eighth 


39 

IV. 

Lieutenant Bob 




59 

V. 

“ My Orders Have Come ” 

• 

• 


79 

VI. 

Good-Byes 

• 

t 


92 

VII. 

A Tough Job 

• 

• 


107 

VIII. 

Over the Trenches 

• 

• 


122 

IX. 

Behind the Enemy’s Lines 

• 

• 


141 

X. 

A Gust of Wind 

• 

• 


164 

XI. 

First Aid .... 

• 

• 


184 

XII. 

Locked Doors . 

• 



205 

XIII. 

u Come in, Comrade ! ” 

• 

• 


226 

XIV. 

A Letter from London . 

• 

• 


248 

XV. 

One Chance Out of Fifty 

• 

• 


267 

XVI. 

The Flying Man 

• 

• 


285 

XVII. 

Over the Frontier . 

• 

• 


302 

XVIII. 

Captain Lucy . 

• 

• 

• 

322 


5 














Illustrations 


w Is the Twenty-Eighth Going Over This 
Week?” . 

u My Orders Have Come ” . 

“ You May Help the Allies to Victory ” 

u Letter, Please,” Said a Timid Voice . 

u I Did Not Know Where I Should Land” 


PAGE 

Frontispiece 

. 86 

• l 35 

. 196 

. 291 


7 





















I 









Captain Lucy and Lieutenant 
Bob 


CHAPTER I 

MAltlAN ARRIVES 

“The Major’s glasses, if you please, Miss Lucy,” 
said Sergeant Cameron, pausing in the doorway 
with a bow. Lucy, who had run down-stairs on 
hearing the bell, smiled a good-morning to the tall, 
soldierly figure that blocked the sunlit entrance, and 
went into Major Gordon’s study for the forgotten 
glasses. 

“ I was to tell Mrs. Gordon for the Major,” 
Sergeant Cameron added when Lucy returned to 
the door, “ that the guests expected to-day will come 
over on the twelve o’clock boat. The Major had a 
telephone message at his office, from the city.” 

“ Oh, all right, Sergeant. I’ll tell Mother,” said 
Lucy, whereupon the non-commissioned officer 
turned smartly on his heel and made off in the 
direction of the Headquarters Building. 

9 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


It was a beautiful July morning on Governor’s 
Island, and beyond the tree-dotted lawns between 
the rows of officers’ quarters, the parade ground 
was alive with inarching men;—companies of In¬ 
fantry which had drilled there for hours, a little 
part of the mammoth war activity that pervaded the 
post, the headquarters of the Army’s Eastern De¬ 
partment. A faint breeze blew from across New 
York Harbor, fluttering the flag on the ramparts, 
but the air was very hot. 

Lucy ran up-stairs again to her room and dropped 
down in front of her mirror to tie the ribbon at the 
back of her smoothly brushed hair, while she called 
out to the maid who was mounting the stairs after 
her, “ Oh, Elizabeth, Father just sent word that the 
Leslies will be here for lunch,—on the twelve o’clock 
boat.” 

“ Yes, Miss Lucy,” answered Elizabeth’s pleas¬ 
ant, guttural voice. “ You tell your mother, will 
you? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I’m going right away.” 

Lucy gave a last tug at the ribbon, a doubtful 
glance at her mop of fair hair, which with the best 
of efforts never stayed smooth very long, and rose 
to her feet. She was not tall for fourteen years, 
and her dresses were still short, but since her last 
birthday she had begun to take a little more pains 
with her appearance, as was shown just now by 
io 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


her returning to tidy up again after feeding the 
squirrels. The face reflected in the glass was a 
very attractive one, with its frank, bright hazel eyes 
and lips ever ready to smile. But Lucy never spent 
much time in wondering whether she looked “ nice ” 
or not. There was more than that to do just now 
on Governor’s Island. 

She ran down-stairs two steps at a time and, 
shooing out an inquiring squirrel which was coming 
in by the screen door William had left open, went 
out on the piazza. On the steps sat a curly-headed 
five-year-old boy, the baby of the Gordon family. 

“Come on, William! Come with me?” asked 
Lucy, holding out a hand to the little boy, who 
jumped off the steps and trotted along beside her. 

“ Where you going, Lucy? ” he inquired as they 
followed the brick walk along the line of quarters 
called “ General’s Row,” because the General’s 
house heads it, toward the path crossing over to the 
other officers’ line or “ Colonel’s Row.” 

“ Over to see Mother about something,” said 
Lucy, continuing her way around the foot of 
Colonel’s Row to where, after five minutes’ walk, the 
water of the harbor gleamed through the trees and 
the Officers’ Club showed by the tennis courts at the 
end of the parade. 

In one of the second floor rooms of the big, yellow 
brick building the Red Cross had its headquarters, 

ii 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


and here Lucy and William were bound as they 
entered the wide archway and followed the stairs 
leading to the ballroom and upper floor. A buzz 
of ladies’ voices came from the doorway, beyond 
which twenty or thirty officers’ wives and daughters 
were hard at work over tables piled with gauze and 
muslin. Mrs. Gordon looked up from folding a 
long three-yard roll and smiled a welcome as Lucy 
entered with William close behind. 

“ Are you looking for me, daughter? ” she asked, 
while Julia Houston, Lucy’s best friend on the 
post, ran over, scissors in hand, to say: 

“ Do stay, Lucy, won’t you, and we can work 
together.” 

“ I’m afraid I can’t this morning, Julia. I came 
only to tell Mother about the Leslies.” 

“ When are they coming? Did Father hear from 
them?” asked Mrs. Gordon, pausing in her work. 

“ Yes, he sent word we were to expect them on 
the noon boat, and, oh, Mother, what do you suppose 
Marian will be like? ” demanded Lucy, giving her 
mother’s arm a squeeze in her eager curiosity. 

“ You’ll know before long, dear, and no doubt 
you’ll like her veiy much,” said Mrs. Gordon, speak¬ 
ing without any great conviction in her voice, as she 
went on with her folding. 

“ Is your cousin going to stay with you all sum¬ 
mer? ” asked Julia, who had taken yards of selvage 
12 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

cuttings from about her shoulders, and was show¬ 
ing William how to wind them into neat little balls. 

“ Yes, Marian is going to stay mitil her father 
comes back from California. Cousin Henry has to 
look after his lumber camps out there. The Gov¬ 
ernment wants his wood for ships, so he has to leave 
in a hurry.” 

“ Haven’t you ever seen her, Lucy? Don’t you 
know what she’s like? ” asked Julia curiously, toss¬ 
ing back her dark braids, as she looked up from 
William’s laborious winding. 

“ Oh, yes, I saw her once about three years ago, 
when we were both twelve. She has always been 
delicate, and can’t do a great deal, though Father 
says she is much better now. But she is awfully 
pretty,” Lucy added, with a sudden enthusiasm 
her first words had lacked. “ I think she’ll like it 
here, don’t you, Julia? ” 

“ Of course,” said Julia, who was sure any one 
would like army life. 

“ Come, Lucy, we had better go. We won’t 
have more than time to meet the boat,” said Mrs. 
Gordon, putting away her work. “ Will you tie up 
the rest of these rolls, Mrs. Andrews?” she asked 
of the lady beside her, who agreed with a smile and 
added with a glance at Lucy: 

“ You’d better bring your cousin to parade to¬ 
morrow afternoon, Lucy. The whole regiment is 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

to march.” Mrs. Andrews was the wife of the 
Colonel of the island’s Infantry regiment. 

“ Oh, I will, Mrs. Andrews,” said Lucy, leaning 
down to free William from the yards of strips he 
had got wound about his arms and hands in the 
course of his work. 

“ William—why do you always get so tied up 
with everything? Come, hurry! Mother’s wait¬ 
ing. Good-bye, Julia.” 

Once outside the club, Mrs. Gordon said to her 
daughter, “We have fifteen minutes, so there’s no 
need to walk fast in this heat. We can keep under 
the trees by the edge of the parade as far as the top 
of the hill.” 

Lucy was hardly listening. Her eyes were bent 
on the ground but suddenly she raised them to her 
mother and asked eagerly, “ How do you honestly 
think we’ll get along with Marian, Mother? I 
can’t help wondering, because she’s been so used to 
everything she wants. Perhaps she’ll hate it here, 
and won’t stay.” 

“ Don’t borrow trouble, dear,” advised Mrs. Gor¬ 
don, raising her parasol as they left the shade to 
cross the wide grassy space from Colonel’s to Gen¬ 
eral’s Row. “ Cousin Henry is so good himself, I 
am sure his little girl must have a great deal that 
is nice about her, and if she is a little selfish and 
trying, remember she has been ill a long time. 

H % 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Cousin Henry has been a good friend to you chil¬ 
dren; you know he got Bob his appointment to 
West Point, and Father is devoted to him. We are 
only too glad to do a little for him now in re¬ 
turn.” 

They had reached the General’s house at the head 
of the little slope leading to the dock, and New 
York Harbor, gleaming in the morning sunlight, 
lay below them. 

“ There’s the boat, just coming in,” said Lucy, 
starting down the hill as the army ferry General 
Hancock drew slowly inshore, while a soldier on the 
dock let down the chains that held the gangway. 

There were few passengers at this hour, most of 
the hundreds having government business coming 
earlier in the day, and only half a dozen people from 
the officers’ cabin stepped ashore where Lucy and 
her mother and William stood waiting. The last 
to land was a tall, thin gentleman in a cool-looking 
pongee suit, with one arm around the shoulders of a 
slender girl about Lucy’s size and dressed all in 
white. 

“ There they are, Mother. Hello, Cousin Henry! 
Hello, Marian! ” cried Lucy, all her doubts for¬ 
gotten at sight of Mr. Leslie’s cheerful smile and 
Marian’s pretty face. 

Mrs. Gordon made haste to give them a cordial 
welcome, and as she bent to kiss Marian she asked 

\ 15 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


hopefully, “ You’ll like it here with us, won’t you, 
dear? We’re so glad to have you.” 

Marian gave a faint little smile as she answered, 
“ Yes, Cousin Sally,” and held out her hand to 
Lucy, while Mr. Leslie exclaimed with the friendly 
heartiness that made everybody like him: 

“ Why, Sally, Lucy, William! I never was so 
glad to see any one in my life! I wish I could stay 
here with Marian. This post must be a great place 
to see things, these days, and if I’m not mistaken, 
here’s the Major himself coming to meet us.” 

He pointed toward the slope of the hill, down 
which a tall figure in summer olive-drab service uni¬ 
form was swinging at a rapid walk. 

“ Why, so it is Father,” said Lucy. “ He didn’t 
expect to be able to leave Headquarters in time to 
come, but he’s managed it somehow.” 

Major Gordon, acting chief quartermaster of the 
post, had, since the declaration of war, had so much 
work to do that his leisure moments were exceed¬ 
ingly scarce, and his spare, bronzed face wore a look 
of fatigue. But he was well used to long and hard 
service, and his voice sounded hearty and cheerful 
as he greeted his cousin and looked with kindly 
questioning into Marian’s face, with its pale-rose- 
leaf cheeks, wide violet eyes, and somewhat tremu¬ 
lous lips which looked as though pouting were not 
altogether a forgotten art to them. 

16 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

“ Well, little Marian, we’re going to make an 
army girl of you before we get through—make you 
hate to leave us,” he promised, giving a gentle pull 
to one of Marian’s curls, which, tied with a ribbon 
behind her neck in a lovely mass of gold, Lucy had 
been admiring in silence while the others exchanged 
their greetings. 

Major Gordon led the way on up the little slope 
with Mrs. Gordon and Mr. Leslie, leaving the 
children to follow, which they did very quietly, as 
Marian did not volunteer any remarks, and Lucy 
did not feel like beginning to ask questions yet. 
William, running along beside his sister, fixed a 
wide-eyed stare on his new cousin which made Lucy 
want to laugh as she began pointing out places of 
interest on the post, when they had reached the top 
of the slope. 

“ This is General’s Row, Marian, where we live, 
and across the grass there is Colonel’s Row, that 
other line of houses. All the officers on the Gen¬ 
eral’s staff live on this side of the island, and beyond 
the parade you can see the officers’ quarters of the 
Infantry regiment stationed here. Those big 
sheds, way over beyond the houses, have just been 
put up for the recruits there is no room for. That 
big grassy stretch is the parade. The men have 
gone in to dinner now, but you’ll see them drilling 
again this afternoon. They are all working ter- 
*7 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


ribly hard getting the new men into shape before 
they get orders for the front.” 

Lucy stopped, feeling she had never made such 
a long speech in her life, as Marian did not encour¬ 
age her by asking any questions, but merely said, 
after a second’s pause, “ Yes, I suppose so,” with a 
glance around her which Lucy felt sure was more 
one of politeness than real interest. 

In another minute they had reached the Gordons* 
house in the line of square, yellow, pleasant look¬ 
ing officers* quarters, and entered the screened-in 
piazza. Mr. Leslie stopped in the doorway to poke 
his cane in the direction of an inquiring squirrel 
which was frisking about his feet with all the im¬ 
pudent tameness of a privileged pet. 

“ Isn’t he a cunning little fellow, Marian? *’ he 
asked his daughter, who had come up and slipped 
her arm through his, with a little more life in her 
face as she returned her father’s smile. 

“ Yes, he is,” she nodded, laughing faintly, as 
the squirrel ran over her white shoe, leaving dusty 
little tracks across the toe. 

“ Luncheon is ready,” announced Mrs. Gordon, 
coming out of the house. “ We have it at half¬ 
past twelve on account of James. He has to get 
back so early to the office.” 

In spite of the warm day eveiy one came in and 
sat down to eat very willingly, though Lucy watched 

i8 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Marian, wondering how their somewhat simplified 
war-time fare would please her pampered taste. 
Evidently it was not yery successful, for Marian 
hardly touched anything, and answered Mrs. Gor¬ 
don’s anxious inquiries by saying politely that she 
was not very hungry to-day. Mrs. Gordon was 
not at all satisfied to see her little guest make her 
lunch from a few string beans and half a dozen 
strawberries when her delicate cheeks and thin, 
little hands showed her decided need of nourish¬ 
ment, but she said nothing more for the present. 
Mr. Leslie, whose management of his ailing, mother¬ 
less little daughter consisted in either coaxing her to 
obey him or letting her do what she liked, added a 
mild suggestion that she drink the glass of milk 
Mrs. Gordon provided, but did not gain his point. 
William drank the milk afterward, on top of a 
hearty meal. 

After lunch Major Gordon took Mr. Leslie for a 
short tour of the post, which was to end at his office, 
from which Mr. Leslie would return to the house. 
Mrs. Gordon persuaded Marian to come up-stairs 
and lie down until her father’s return, so as not to be 
too tired on her first day at Governor’s Island. 
Marian was willing enough to rest for a while, as 
she was in the habit of doing. Lucy closed the door 
of the darkened room, from which Marian could 
hear the sharp commands of the company captains, 
19 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


once more drilling their men on the parade, and 
ran down-stairs, secretly wondering how any one 
could want to go to sleep at this hour on a beautiful 
day, at a new army post she had had no chance to 
explore. 

Through the doorway she caught sight of Julia 
Houston running across the grass with black braids 
flying, and went swiftly out to meet her. 

“ Did they come? ” were Julia’s first words, and 
Lucy plunged into an account of the new cousins, 
which, however, grew pretty meagre and evasive so 
far as Marian was concerned. 

“ Of course I don’t really know her yet, though, 
Julia,” she explained for her lack of enthusiasm. 
“ She’s lying down now, but you will see her later.” 

“ Oh, poor little thing,—she’s still ill, then? ” 
asked warm-hearted Julia, ready to make allow¬ 
ances. 

“ Yes, I don’t know just how much,” said Lucy 
doubtfully. 

“ Well, listen to me a minute, Lucy.” Julia took 
her friend’s arm and drew her down on the steps 
of the Gordon house. “ What I really came to ask 
you about was this.” Her voice dropped a little. 
“ Have you heard your father say anything about 
the Twenty-Eighth sailing for France this week, 
or that those drills they keep at every second of the 
day are their last on this side? Of course your 
20 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


father would know, when he has charge of the sup¬ 
plies,—and I’m sure it’s so,” ended Julia, her eyes 
bright and earnest. 

“ Oh, Julia, you know how Father is about 
secrets,—especially lately. I wouldn’t know one 
thing if everybody on the post were leaving to¬ 
night,” said Lucy, her lips wavering to a smile, 
though her face was thoughtful. “ How I wish I 
knew, though,” she added, looking off toward the 
moving lines of men, dust-brown against the green. 
“ Where did you hear it, anyway? ” 

“ I didn’t hear it, I just guessed it, because the 
Infantry officers are so queer and silent now, when 
you ask them questions. Mr. Ailing was at our 
house last night, and he would hardly speak of the 
latest Infantry orders, and when they don’t know 
what to expect themselves they talk and surmise, 
about it as much as anybody. Besides, they are 
working so terribly hard,—in the regiment, I mean, 
not among the recruits. And hasn’t your father 
been rushed to death, lately, without giving any 
particular reason? ” 

Lucy was silent, pondering, her father’s tired face 
before her eyes. “ I don’t know, Julia,” she said at 
last. “ I wish we did. I’ll ask Father to tell me,— 
wouldn’t any secret be safe with us? But he 
won’t.” 

Julia got up, staring over the parade with frown- 
21 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


ing brows. The mysterious secrecy of these first 
sailings of American troops for the far-off battle 
front, lest the watchful submarines learn more ac¬ 
curate news of their coming than they already 
picked up by unknown means, was to the eager, 
loyal children of the post a very thrilling problem 
of uncertainty. Twice already had a regiment, 
newly arrived at the island for an uncertain stay, 
slipped away in the darkness or the dawn to its 
transports, and each time, thanks to the silent 
tongues and the battle-ships waiting to convoy 
them, they had reached the other side in safety. 
And now was the home regiment to follow? 

“ I suppose we might just as well stop racking 
our brains/’ Julia said at last, putting aside her 
perplexed thoughts with her usual impulsiveness. 
“ Come to the Red Cross to-morrow morning, 
Lucy? We can do that much, anyhow.” 

“ Yes, I’ll come,” responded Lucy, still thought¬ 
ful. Then she added with sudden earnestness, 
“ But I’m not going to let the Twenty-Eighth dis¬ 
appear as the others did! If that regiment sails 
this week, Julia, I’m going to be there to see it off.” 


22 


CHAPTER II 


PARADE 

The Red Cross rooms were crowded, but Lucy 
and Julia had managed to find a comer at Mrs. 
Houston’s table. 

“ Twenty-three, twenty-four,” counted Lucy, 
turning over the neat little piles of gauze squares 
on the table. “ Oh, Julia, how can you do them so 
fast? I’ve worked my head off and only made 
twenty, and now I have to go home before I can 
brace up and beat you.” 

Julia laughed, and Mrs. Houston, who sat across 
from the two girls, said critically, “ I think yours 
are done the better of the two, Lucy, so don’t be 
too discouraged. Julia always puts speed ahead 
of everything.” 

“ Well, that’s the most important thing in this 
Red Cross work,” said Julia in self-defense. “ All 
the doctors tell you that plenty of dressings pretty 
well done are more useful after a battle than a few 
of them made to perfection. I tell you what, Lucy, 
bring the rest of your pile of gauze along and come 

23 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


home to lunch with me. I still have this mucli left* 
too, and we can finish it right afterward/’ 

Julia held up a thin pile of pieces, but Lucy shook 
her head regretfully. 

“ Can’t, Julia. I must go back to Marian. 
She’s a little homesick, I think. She seemed so 
after her father left yesterday, though she didn’t 
say much.” 

“ Oh, then, can’t you play tennis this afternoon, 
either? ” demanded Julia, feeling that her friend 
was making unnecessary sacrifices. 

“ No, I’ll stay with her and see you at parade. I 
don’t mind. Think how we’d feel, Julia, if we were 
dropped down into some strange city, where nobody 
knew or cared anything about the army.” 

Julia laughed, but she said thoughtfully, “ We’ll 
have to make her like it here, Lucy. I know we 
can. Well, be sure to come out later.” 

“ Oh, yes,” nodded Lucy, putting on her hat over 
her tumbled hair. “ May I take these home to 
finish, Mrs. Houston? I’ll bring them back to¬ 
morrow. Good-bye.” 

Leaning all the morning over a work-table seemed 
to make Lucy hungrier than even outdoor exercise, 
and at luncheon, to which they sat down promptly 
when Major Gordon came in, she was too pre¬ 
occupied to notice Marian very much. Mrs. Gor¬ 
don had been helping Marian arrange things in her 

24 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

room and unpack her clothes, and having had quite 
a pleasant little talk with her, and decided that 
she was not terribly homesick, was disappointed to 
see her take hardly any more interest in her food 
than she had the day before. 

“ Don’t you like shepherd’s pie? ” she asked as 
Marian refused the dish passed to her. “Why 
don’t you try a little? ” 

Marian silently obeyed by taking a spoonful,; 
which lay quite untasted on her plate while she 
munched a little bread and butter. 

“ But you aren’t eating it, dear,” insisted Mrs. 
Gordon. “ Don’t you find it good? ” 

“ Oh, yes, Cousin Sally,” answered Marian 
politely. “ It’s very nice indeed, but I’m not 
hungry.” 

Marian’s careful bringing up by a French gov¬ 
erness, surrounded with every advantage of foreign 
travel and good associations, had given her an out¬ 
ward semblance of good manners, which had, how¬ 
ever, no real obedience or docility behind them. 
Mrs. Gordon said nothing more for the moment, 
and changed the subject by asking William where 
he had been on his walk around the island with 
Elizabeth, after they had taken some papers and 
magazines to the soldiers in the post hospital. But 
after luncheon when Lucy and Marian had gone 
out on the piazza and sat down at a table to finish 

25 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


the pile of gauze, Mrs. Gordon took out her sew¬ 
ing and seated herself near them. 

“ It isn’t very hard, Marian,” Lucy began, re¬ 
sponding promptly to a faint suggestion made by 
Marian before luncheon that she would like to 
learn to make dressings, and spreading out a piece 
of gauze after a critical glance at her fingers. 
“ Take this silver knife,—I brought out two,—to 
pat it smooth with. Now fold it over, so, and fold 
it the other way,—twice. Then smooth it flat and 
it’s all done. I’ll show you again.” 

“ Marian,” said Mrs. Gordon, looking at her 
little cousin’s delicate profile that looked so pretty 
as she bent over her work, “ I am going to speak 
to you right now about the way you sit at our table 
and eat nothing. Why, my child, I can’t let you 
spend the summer here and make no better meals 
than you have been doing. You need your food as 
much as Lucy does,—more, because you have your 
health to build up.” 

Marian had turned her head to listen, and as Mrs. 
Gordon paused she said, doubtfully, “Why, I’m not 
very hungry, Cousin Sally, except once in a while.” 

“ That’s because your appetite has got used to 
being coaxed and encouraged while you were ill. 
I dare say there are a few things that you par¬ 
ticularly like and are willing to eat. But I mean 
you must learn to help it along for yourself by try- 
26 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


ing to eat what a girl your age ought to. I’m sure 
you want to do everything you can to get well soon, 
don’t you? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I do,” said Marian quickly, while her 
brows met in an uncertain frown, as though her 
ill-health were a tiresome burden which she would 
gladly be rid of, but to which she had grown so ac¬ 
customed that it now seemed impossible to throw 
it aside. 

“ I know a little exercise would make you hun¬ 
grier,” Mrs. Gordon went on, “ and while riding 
would be too violent on our army horses, even if the 
airplanes didn’t frighten them too much to make it 
safe, I think a little temiis wouldn’t hurt. Oh, 
Marian, how beautifully you’ve done that! ” 

Lucy had held out for her mother’s inspection a 
smooth, almost perfect little square which Marian 
had just added to the pile. Mrs. Gordon, always 
more willing to praise than to find fault, was de¬ 
lighted at her success in the delicate art of making 
neat compresses, and said so, enthusiastically. 

Marian smiled with pleasure, and bent over her 
work again, her bright hair falling about her shoul¬ 
ders and her thin, little fingers busy, while Lucy, 
glancing up, thought to herself as she patted and 
poked, “ She is pretty, and if I could just shake 
her and wake her up, and get her acting like a 
regular girl, I’d like her.” 

27 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

“ Lucy,” said Mrs. Gordon, looking at her 
daughter’s completed pile, “ I want you to walk 
over to Headquarters now, and bring back a letter 
Father wants to show me.” 

“ All right, Mother. Will you come, Marian? ” 
asked Lucy, getting up with a jump from her pro¬ 
longed quiet. 

“ No, I guess not,” Marian answered, hesitating 
for a second over her refusal, but deciding in favor 
of what required least effort. 

“ I’ll take William,” said Lucy, going out on the 
grass, where the little boy was sitting cross-legged, 
carefully shelling peanuts for an impatient squirrel 
who would much rather have done it for himself. 

“ O-oh, Lucy, isn’t he a pig!” asked William, 
catching sight of his sister as he began ruefully 
sucking his thumb where the greedy squirrel had 
nipped it, and ungratefully darted off over his 
shoulder with a flirt of his big tail in William’s 
face. 

“You ought to let him have it whole. He can 
shell harder things than we can. Come on, hurry,” 
said Lucy, holding out her hand. “ We’re going 
over to Father’s office a minute.” 

They cut across the grass, and in five minutes 
reached the long, yellow brick building near the 
head of the slope above the dock, William’s little 
bare legs twinkling along as fast as he could work 
28 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

them beside his sister’s swift pace, for Lucy always 
seemed to be making up for lost time. 

Entering the building, she opened a door off the 
corridor into a room where a soldier sat over a desk 
covered with papers. 

“ Good-afternoon, Sergeant Cameron,” she said, 
as the “ non-com ” sprang up and stood at atten¬ 
tion, except for the friendly smile on his face. “ Is 
Father in his office? ” 

The Sergeant opened the door of the inner room 
and ushered them through. “ The Major has gone 
into Colonel Horton’s office for a moment, but he 
will be back directly. Take a seat, Miss Lucy. 
No, I can’t play now, little Major.” This was 
added in an undertone to William, whose resem¬ 
blance to his father had earned him this title, and 
who could not understand why his friend the 
Sergeant was so severe at work when he was so very 
friendly at other times. 

Lucy dropped into the revolving chair in front of 
her father’s desk and glanced idly at the papers 
spread out before her. They were long columns of 
figures at one side of the sheet, with before them lists 
of articles of every description for the food and 
equipment of Uncle Sam’s soldiers, into the hun¬ 
dreds of thousands of barrels and boxes and dozens 
and hundredweights. Half guiltily, Lucy turned 
away her eyes, for her quick fancy brought before 
29 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


her on the instant the companies of marching men 
in close-ranked files that those supplies were meant 
to accompany. Julia’s eager questions came back 
with a rush of swift conviction. 

“ The Twenty-Eighth is going this week, surely,” 
she thought to herself, and struggled with her con¬ 
science whether to look again to see if the papers 
gave any definite names or dates, when the door 
opened and a young infantry officer came in, with 
a letter in his hand, and said, with a quick jolly 
smile: 

“ Hello, Lucy, how are you? Your father sent 
me to bring you this letter. He had it with him, 
and he can’t come back right away. At least, he 
told me to give it to Sergeant Cameron, but I 
thought I’d like to see how you and William 
were.” 

“ Oh, thank you, Mr. Harding,” said Lucy, tak¬ 
ing the letter from his hand, the eager questions 
which she had been asking herself a moment before 
now trembling on her lips. The Lieutenant was a 
great friend of the Gordon family, and Lucy felt 
emboldened to try her luck. 

“ Mr. Harding,” she burst out, “ do you,—you 
don’t think I am a chatterbox,—I mean that I tell 
every thing I know,—do you? ” 

The young officer laughed, though he looked his 
surprise, and his brown eyes twinkled as he said, 
30 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Why, not quite so bad as that, Lucy. I never 
said so, anyway, so why the row with me? ” 

“ Oh, I know you didn’t say so,” Lucy assured 
him hastily. “ I’m only asking you if you don’t 
think I can keep a secret; because I know I can.” 
Then before Mr. Harding could answer she per¬ 
sisted, “ Is the Twenty-Eighth going over this 
week? Won’t you tell me? ” 

Mr. Harding smiled at the flushed and eager face 
lifted to his, but the smile was a thoughtful one as 
he answered, “ You must think the Colonel takes 
me into his confidence. What put that idea into 
your head? ” 

“ Oh,—lots of things,” said Lucy impatiently. 
“ You won’t tell me, will you? ” 

“ Supposing that I knew something to tell, and 
the orders were secret—would you expect me to? ” 
Lucy’s eyes lighted up and she smiled at her 
friend with a sudden satisfaction. “ No, I wouldn’t, 
and I’m a silly goose to bother you, but I wanted 
dreadfully to know, and no news will ever be spread 
through me or Julia.” 

“ Well, I don’t see any news to spread,” remarked 
Mr. Harding, opening the door, “ except that I 
shall have a warm reception from the Major if 
I stay palavering with you and William any 
longer.” 

“ Thanks for coming,” said Lucy as they passed 
3i 


CAPTAIN LUCr 


through the outer room, where Sergeant Cameron 
stood rigidly at attention, only this time with no 
smile on his immovable face, as the young officer 
passed him to bid good-bye to the Gordons at the 
door. 

“ It’s funny,” Lucy thought on the way home, 
when William had run on ahead, finding his sister 
too quiet to be good company. “ We want so much 
to do a lot to help, and we can do so little. Now I 
know they are surely going, for Mr. Harding would 
have denied it otherwise,—but I don’t know just 
when.” 

An airplane from the aviation field at the far end 
of the island passed noisily overhead, and Lucy 
watched it wistfully, as it flew off toward Sandy 
Hook through the clear sky, with that mysterious 
longing to share in great adventures that sometimes 
stirs every normal fourteen-year-old heart. At last 
she gave a sigh and came down to earth, having 
bumped rather hard into some of the bushes by the 
General’s gate-post, and made that gentleman smile 
curiously at her as he came out of his door. 

“ I’ll go home and see how Marian is,” she said, 
forgetting her puzzled thoughts and starting to 
run. “ I guess that’s all I’m good for.” 

Back at the house, Lucy found the piazza deserted 
and went inside and out to the kitchen, where the 
cook, who was Elizabeth’s husband, Karl, told her 
32 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


that Mrs. Gordon had gone to take some jelly to 
Sergeant Cameron’s wife, who had been ill several 
days. 

“ The little sick girl is up-stairs, I think, Miss 
Lucy. She not go with your mother, I know.” 

Lucy ran up-stairs and through her own room 
into Marian’s. “ Oh, here you are,” she panted, 
breathless. “ I’ve been wondering where you were. 
Aren’t you coming out to parade? ” 

“ Yes, I’m getting dressed now,” said Marian, 
who was tying her curls with a blue ribbon as she 
stood before the glass in her petticoat. “ Will you 
button my dress for me, Lucy? I was waiting for 
Elizabeth to come down from her room.” 

“ Of course I will,” said Lucy, taking the fine 
white frock laid on the bed and slipping it care¬ 
fully over Marian’s thin little shoulders. “ Oh, 
Marian, you do look lovely!” she could not help 
exclaiming when she had finished the row of tiny 
buttons. “ What a perfectly darling dress that 
is.” 

“ Oh, no,” said Marian, laughing at her cousin’s 
burst of enthusiasm, for she was too used to having 
numberless pretty clothes, which her father bought 
to coax her into an interest in going about, to think 
much of them. But Lucy, wandering over to the 
closet where a dozen more dresses hung, suddenly 
became painfully aware of her own mussed-looking 
33 


* CAPTAIN LUCY 

middy blouse and skirt, and of the hair blown about 
her face. 

“ I’ll get dressed myself in a jiffy, Marian,” she 
said, darting into her own room, where she per¬ 
formed the sometimes neglected function of dress¬ 
ing for the afternoon with more than usual care. 
When she came out ten minutes later and joined 
Marian down-stairs, her soft fair hair was smoothly 
brushed and tied, and she wore a fresh summer dress 
free from the ravages made by squirrels’ feet. 

“ Now, we’ll go,” she said, leading the way out¬ 
doors, as from the parade behind Colonel’s Row the 
band of the Twenty-Eighth struck up a lively 
march. 

Over the broad expanse of green, as Lucy and 
Marian drew near, twelve companies were march¬ 
ing in close-ranked lines, for the whole regiment 
was on parade, and a crowd of people were gathered 
about the iron benches behind the reviewing officer. 
The women of the Twenty-Eighth, as well as many 
of the General Staff officers with their families, were 
watching the khaki-colored ranks of well-drilled 
men as they swung about in response to the orders 
heard clearly above the music, and formed into a 
long, double line facing the Colonel. As the music 
stopped, Lucy’s eyes turned from the regiment to 
the faces of the people about her, and in their quiet 
voices and serious eyes she felt that she read her 
34 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


own and Julia’s thoughts, of the few days left for 
the Twenty-Eighth to remain in peaceful America. 

Julia had found Lucy and Marian at once, and 
in a minute the three were joined by General Mat¬ 
thews’ daughter, Anne, who was just home from 
a visit and so glad to be back that her jolly, rosy- 
cheeked face was aglow with smiles and she gave 
Marian’s little hand a hearty shake of welcome. 
Julia had seen but a glimpse of Lucy’s cousin the 
day before, and now she was prepared to make a 
thorough acquaintance. 

“ I’m so glad you feel better, Marian,” she said 
in a friendly way. “ There’s such a lot to see here 
now, I know you want to be able to do everything.” 

No one could look at Marian’s lovely face, framed 
in its pale gold curls, and at her delicate, dainty 
little self without a touch of pity and liking, and 
Julia decided in her impulsive mind that if Lucy’s 
cousin was to remain at the Gordons’ all summer, 
the only thing to do was to let her share in all their 
plans and treat her as a friend. 

“ Did Lucy tell you what we think, Marian? ” 
she asked when the three were standing again by 
themselves, Marian’s wide eyes fixed on the lines 
of soldiers with a keener interest than she had yet 
shown. “ We think,” Julia lowered her voice, “ the 
Twenty-Eighth is going before this week is over.” 

“ Where? ” asked Marian quickly, a sudden look 
35 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


of animation in her face, as she turned at Julia’s 
words. As though in answer to her question the 
band burst into life and the regiment began to 
march. 

“ Over there . . . 

Over there . ♦ 

The words sang themselves into the music as 
the lines swung again into companies before the 
Coloners silent watching figure. 

“ For the Yanks are coming . . . 

The Yanks are coming . . . 

And we won’t come back 
’Til it’s over,—over there! ” 

Marian’s lips formed the stirring words and her 
eyes, expressive and intelligent enough when her 
interest was aroused, sparkled with swift under¬ 
standing. 

“ But, Lucy,” she asked with a new wonder, 
“ why aren’t you sure? Is it a secret to every one 
outside of the regiment? ” 

“ Not quite,—some of the staff officers have to 
know. But to us it is, or rather supposed to be, for 
I’m just as sure of it as though Colonel Andrews 
had turned around and told me his orders had 
come.” Lucy spoke with serious face and lowered 
voice. 

“Not even the enlisted men know the exact day 
until within twenty-four hours of it,” added Julia. 

36 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ The officers only tell them to get ready. Of 
course, there’s nothing like safety first, but who is 
there on this post to be afraid of? Not many 
enemies, I’m sure.” 

“ Why, the Gordons have two Germans right in 
their house,” said Marian, looking at Lucy. 

“ Elizabeth and Karl? ” asked Lucy, astonished. 
“ Why,—of course they are Germans by birth, but 
they’ve lived years in this country. Karl has been 
Father’s servant since the Spanish war, Marian, 
and Elizabeth thinks we are her own children some¬ 
times, I believe. No matter if they leave us when 
we move to a new post they always turn up again 
and come back. Oh, I know they’re all right.” 

“ We can’t suspect every German we know,” 
agreed Julia. “ Look at the Schneiders, who keep 
the store on the dock. They were so afraid of be¬ 
ing told to go when war was declared, but General 
Matthews decided they might stay. Mrs. Schneider 
cried on Mother’s shoulder when she heard it, and 
said she didn’t know what would have become of 
them if their business had been ruined.” 

“ We must go home,” said Lucy, as the last of the 
regiment marched away and the crowd of people 
began to disperse. “ Mother told me not to keep 
Marian out long, and the sun is setting as fast as it 
can. To-morrow is the first of August. Just 
think, Julia, how soon Bob graduates! A whole 
37 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


year earlier than he ought.” Lucy bit her lip a 
second and turned to meet her friend’s bright, un¬ 
derstanding eyes. “ I can’t feel very glad about 
it. It’s Bob I think of when we watch the Twenty- 
Eighth get ready for ‘ over there.’ ” 


38 


CHAPTER III 


THE MYSTERY OF THE TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Lucy and Julia were sitting on the Gordons’ 
piazza floor filling comfort kits, while Marian and 
William sorted out pencils and shoe-laces and 
writing paper and safety-pins. All four had 
stopped working just now to speak to Mr. Hard¬ 
ing, who came out of the house and sat down by 
them while he waited for Major Gordon, who had 
returned from his office only to start out again. 

“ Who are these for? ” asked the young officer, 
looking at the neat little cloth bags, half-filled with 
soldiers’ luxuries. 

“ I don’t know exactly, but the Red Cross does,” 
said Lucy, tossing back her ruffled hair. “ I think 
all we have sent lately are for the New York troops 
who join the Rainbow Division.” 

“ They look pretty nice,” commented Mr. Hard¬ 
ing. “ If I had a sister nearer than the Philip¬ 
pines I suppose she’d make me one. I might go 
across before long myself.” 

“ Oh, of course you can have one! ” cried Lucy 
delighted. “ Let’s keep out that last one, Julia, 
and make it up separately.” 

39 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


“ How soon do you want it? ” asked wily Julia, 
hoping to hear some news. 

Mr. Harding laughed and glanced at the watch 
on his wrist. “ It’s half-past four now,—I’ll give 
you till six o’clock.” 

“Want chocolate in yours?” asked William, 
looking affectionately at the shiny brown packages 
waiting to be distributed among the kits. 

“ Don’t I though! Sort of like to join the army 
yourself, wouldn’t you? ” inquired Mr. Harding, 
picking up the little boy and swinging him over 
his shoulders until he squealed with excitement. 
“ Look out for your feet, now. There wouldn’t 
be much left of your cousin if you came down on 
top of her,” cautioned the young man, setting 
William down at a safe distance from Marian’s 
golden head. 

“ I wouldn’t hurt her,—she’s sick,” said William 
with kindly superiority, catching his breath after 
his rapid flight through the air. 

“ I’m not,” said Marian quickly, her blue eyes 
lighting up, but at sight of William’s funny little 
air of condescension her lips wavered to a smile, and 
for a moment she forgot herself and joined in the 
others’ laughter. 

“ Marian’s almost well now, William,” said Lucy, 
to smooth things over, and Mr. Harding, getting 
up at sound of a footstep inside the hall, asked: 

40 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Can you believe Bob will come home an officer 
in two weeks, Lucy? I can’t—he seems such a 
kid.” 

“ Doesn’t he? ” said Lucy, pausing thoughtfully 
in her work, her brother’s tall figure and boyish 
face before her eyes. “ Well, I wish I were an 
officer.” 

“ Lucy,” said Mr. Harding, “ I think we’ll have 
to make you Captain by courtesy of the Twenty- 
Eighth. Would you like that? ” 

“ Would I! ” exclaimed Lucy, her eyes shining. 
“ Oh, you are joking.” 

“ Never more serious in my life,” said Mr. Hard¬ 
ing, his eyes twinkling, as he came to a stiff salute. 
“ Captain Lucy!” And Lucy, a little breathless 
and self-conscious, returned it amid the pleased 
exclamations of the two girls and William. 

“ Here’s the Major, so good-bye.” Mr. Hard¬ 
ing waved his cap with a smile and turned to join 
the older officer who came out of the house, papers 
in hand. 

“ All good little war workers, aren’t you? ” re¬ 
marked Major Gordon, feeling for his glasses. 
“ Come along, Harding,” and the two set off 
briskly down the walk. 

Lucy, aglow with the realization of the honor 
which had just been conferred upon her, scrambled 
over to pick up the kit reserved for her friend, 
4i 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


when through the window opening on tKe piazza 
appeared Karl’s bushy, black head and heated 
face. 

“ Your mother not back yet from town, Miss 
Lucy?” he inquired. 

“ No, she isn’t, Karl. What’s the matter? ” 

“ I not disturb the Major,” explained Karl 
volubly, “ but without an order I can nothing from 
the dispensary get, and Elizabeth feel very bad.” 

“ Oh, does her tooth ache again? I’m awfully 
sorry,” cried Lucy, jumping to her feet. “ I’ll go 
and speak to her, Karl.” 

Lucy ran indoors and up to the little dormer- 
windowed rooms on the third floor. Elizabeth lay 
on her bed, her aching cheek buried in the pillow 
and a heavy down-quilt spread over her, notwith¬ 
standing the day’s sultry heat. In spite of her 
pain she managed a faint smile and a murmur of 
welcome as Lucy dropped to her knees beside her. 

“ It’s too bad, Elizabeth! Just tell me what to 
get, and I’ll go right over to the dispensary. Per¬ 
haps I’d better ask the steward there what is best 
for a toothache. He’ll know. But first, I’ll bring 
you Mother’s hot-water bottle.” 

“Oh, Miss Lucy, it is good so!” sighed poor 
Elizabeth gratefully, when the hot bag was pressed 
against her burning face. “ I never have such an 
ache,—never.” 


42 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Well, stay right there while I go after some-* 
thing for it,” said Lucy hopefully, and she made 
for the stairs, down which she ran at headlong 
speed. 

“ Is Elizabeth very sick, Lucy? ” asked William, 
running anxiously up when his sister reappeared 
on the piazza. The kind, affectionate German 
woman was a friend to all the Gordon household. 

“ No, William, but I’m going over to the dis¬ 
pensary after something for her. I’ll be right 
hack, Julia,” she added, turning to the two girls 
who were tying up the last of the comfort kits. 

“ All right. Don’t rush around so fast, Lucy. 
You’ll blow up some day,” remarked Julia, peace¬ 
ably fastening a tape. “ I have to go home any¬ 
how.” 

Ten minutes later Lucy returned armed with a 
little bottle and a camel’s-hair brush, and met her 
mother in front of the steps. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad you are back, Mother. Do 
come up and see Elizabeth when you get your 
things off, won’t you? ” and Lucy drew her mother 
into the house, relieved at the arrival of efficient 
help and advice. 

Mrs. Gordon managed before long to make 
Elizabeth as comfortable as an aching tooth would 
allow, and sent Lucy down to fill some of the gaps 
in the housekeeping arrangements. 

43 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


“ I’ll finish with Mr. Harding’s kit in a few min¬ 
utes,” Lucy said to Marian while she was giving 
William his supper, “ and Mat can take it over to 
the Bachelor’s Quarters.” 

Mat was the Gordons’ good-conduct or “ parole ” 
man, one of whom is allotted to the service of each 
officer, from the military prison on the post, that 
they may earn a little money before their term 
expires. 

“ I’m going to put some postal cards in the kit, 
addressed to me,” Lucy added, speaking a little 
doubtfully. “ Perhaps He’ll laugh, but we’re all 
so anxious to hear news after they go, and it will 
be easy enough for him to mail one.” 

“ I think it’s a fine idea,” said Marian, leaning 
her elbows on the dining-room table while she 
listened with more animation in her pretty face than 
was often seen there. “ Wouldn’t it be queer to 
have them come back to you from nobody knows 
where? ” 

“ You could tell by the postmark,” remarked 
William practically, between spoonfuls of crackers 
and milk. 

Lucy laughed, but she whispered to Marian, 
“ Let’s not talk about it any more, now,” remem¬ 
bering William’s gaping ears and her own assur¬ 
ance to Mr. Harding that her surmises about their 
departure would go no further. 

44 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Mrs. Gordon stayed for some time longer with 
Elizabeth, and when she did come down she heard 
Lucy moving about inside her room, and stopped 
at the door. 

“ Here’s a letter I had from Bob, Lucy. I 
know you wish to read it. I met the postman on 
the boat.” 

“ Oh, thanks, Mother,” said Lucy, letting her 
hair, which she held ready to tie, fall back over 
her shoulders as she took the envelope eagerly from 
Mrs. Gordon’s hand. She snatched out the letter 
and sank down on her sofa by the window to read 
in comfort. 

“ Of course you’re all coming up for graduation,” 
Bob wrote. “ Don’t forget how soon it is,—I can’t 
remember it myself. If you don’t hear from me 
before then it’s only because we have so much to do 
that no day is half long enough. In these few 
months since war was declared they have been try¬ 
ing to put most of next year’s work into our heads, 
as well as some of the new things the Allies have 
learned about fighting. Besides all that, I have 
helped edit this year’s ‘ Howitzer.’ We’ve com¬ 
bined the real class of ’17 and our own class into one 
book, with their consent,—since we graduate only 
four months after they do. It’s going to be a 
corker, too. I had my picture taken last week for 
45 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


it, and will send you one, if Lucy won’t still say 
my hair looks like a scrubbing-brush. 

“ I’m awfully glad to get your letters, even if I 
don’t write, and I’m crazy to see you all again. 
We spend most of the time we have, which isn’t 
much, wondering what we’ll do after graduation, 
and every one has his own little idea of what will 
happen to him,—nothing dull for any of us, I ex¬ 
pect. Only we don’t know anything for certain 
except the good news that we graduate in two 
weeks, so we’re feeling like the fellow in the song 
who says, ‘ Oh, joy! Oh, boy! Where do we go from 
here? ’ 

“ I know this much, anyway, that I’m coming to 
Governor’s Island before I go anywhere else, and 
see everybody and take it mighty easy for a day or 
two, if I never can again. We are working here, 
believe me! I was going to say working like dogs, 
but the only dog around barracks lies in the sun all 
day and catches flies while we’re wearing ourselves 
to skin and bone. We call him General. Don’t 
take that about the work seriously, Mother. I 
never felt better in my life. Tell Lucy there’s 
plenty of time for another box of fudge to get here 
before we leave. Yes, I noticed what she said 
about her commission in the Twenty-Eighth. Tell 
her she can’t boss me, though. 

“ Write me just when to expect you up, and 
46 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


everybody come,—you and Dad and Lucy and 
William, and Marian whether she wants to or not. 

“ Good-bye and lots of love from 

“ Bob.” 

Lucy read the letter through twice, and then sat 
thoughtfully motionless with it in her hand, while 
from the parade came the sound of music as some 
of the companies drilling late marched back to 
barracks. 

This home-coming of Bob’s, so brief and uncer¬ 
tain, to last perhaps twenty-four hours,—a week at 
most, her father thought,—how different it was 
from the graduation leave she and Bob had planned 
together. The one that would have come next 
summer and given him three long months to spend 
at home before he joined his regiment. Lucy loved 
to make plans, and she had looked forward to her 
brother’s graduation leave since his second class 
furlough a year ago. She had decided that she 
would be old enough to go nearly everywhere Bob 
went, by that time, for she would be fifteen the same 
month that Bob would be twenty-one. And now 
how far off all those things seemed, and how dif¬ 
ferent from reality. Where would Bob be, any¬ 
way, a year from now, if the war still went 
on? 

She sat up from among the pillows and folded 

47 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


the letter carefully. Not to borrow trouble is a 
motto often needed in a soldier’s household, and 
none of the Gordons indulged for long in gloomy 
ponderings. It was growing dark, too, and Major 
Gordon was coming up the walk, so dinner would 
soon be ready. 

Lucy did not shake off her thoughtfulness, 
though, all the evening, even while she discussed 
the coming trip to West Point cheerfully enough 
with the rest of the family, and persuaded Marian 
that she would enjoy herself enough to make up for 
being tired by the unusual effort. But after she 
and Marian were in bed she lay long awake, until 
Taps sounded sweet and clear from the parade 
and all the house was quiet. Then she did fall 
gradually asleep, and off into long dreams that 
lasted until a step outside in the hall made her start 
suddenly awake. The footsteps turned toward the 
upper stairs and Lucy, wide awake now, jumped 
up and ran to the door. 

“ Is it you, Elizabeth? ” she asked softly, peering 
into the darkness. “ What’s the matter? Are you 
worse? ” 

A dim little figure in a flannel wrapper ap¬ 
proached her and Elizabeth’s voice whispered, “ No, 
no, Miss Lucy, much better, but I go down for 
little hot water. I feel good so, with the warm 
poultice on my face.” 


48 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Can’t I do anything? I’d like to,” Lucy of¬ 
fered, but Elizabeth whispered: 

“ No, thank you. It was too bad I wake you up. 
Go back to bed now.” She gave her a little push 
inside the door, and Lucy got into bed, feeling 
terribly sleepy. But as she turned over the pillow 
and closed her eyes, all at once she raised her head 
and stopped breathing to listen. 

Outside, somewhere—what was happening, any¬ 
way? Something more than the measured tread of 
the sentry walking slowly along the line. The dim, 
vague sound was like hundreds of footsteps, muffled 
and uneven, but moving steadily along. 

With fast-beating heart Lucy got up once more, 
and, raising a screen, put her head out of the win¬ 
dow to listen. Beyond the lighted walk the 
shadowy trees stirred a little in the night air, but 
nothing else took shape to form the substance of 
those footsteps that, still swelling in numbers, 
sounded faintly but unmistakably on Lucy’s 
ears. 

“ They’re behind the Headquarters Building—on 
the road to the dock,” she guessed, wildly trying to 
collect her thoughts. Then with a sudden decision 
she quietly lowered the screen and, running softly 
across the room, began to dress herself hurriedly 
in the darkness. 

Mrs. Gordon’s room was at the other end of the 
49 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


hall, and all Lucy’s care had been not to wake 
Marian, for the door between their two rooms was 
wide open. But as she struggled with refractory 
shoe-strings she remembered Marian’s eager inter¬ 
est of the last few days, and her questions which, 
while their ignorance of army matters had made 
Lucy and Julia laugh, were still a welcome change 
from her weary indifference. 

“ I don’t care if she is delicate,” thought Lucy, 
defiantly. “ I don’t believe it will hurt her one bit, 
and I can’t be so mean as not to tell her.” 

With one shoe on she tiptoed into Marian’s room 
and dropped down on the bed beside her. “ Mar¬ 
ian ! ” she whispered, giving her cousin’s slender lit¬ 
tle shoulder a vigorous shake that made her start 
upright in bed with a frightened gasp. 

“ Oh, who is it? Lucy, is it you? ” 

“ Yes, and the Twenty-Eighth is leaving! Right 
now,—I hear them marching by. I’m going down 
to see them off, and you can come if you like,—only 
I don’t think you’d better.” 

Lucy’s caution came rather late to be of much 
use. Marian was out of bed in a second, and get¬ 
ting into her clothes with a remarkable disregard 
for convenience and comfort. 

“ Just tie your hair with a ribbon;—I did,” urged 
Lucy, finishing her shoes, “and hurry, Marian! 
What if we should miss them! ” 

50 




AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“lam hurrying,” said Marian. 

Lucy felt suddenly enraged at her calmness, and 
almost wished she had let her sleep on undisturbed. 
But very soon Marian joined her fully dressed, and 
as the clock below struck three, the two girls tip¬ 
toed down-stairs and out by the unlocked front 
door. 

An army post at night is unlike any other place 
in the feeling of complete security it gives. This 
feeling leads the officers to leave their doors and 
windows always unfastened, and to allow their 
children to wander freely about on summer even¬ 
ings. The post is a little world carefully adminis¬ 
tered, where every inhabitant is known and has his 
place, and the soldiers are the time-honored friends 
of the army children. 

Lucy looked over toward the Houstons’ as she 
and Marian hurried along, wishing with all her 
might that Julia were awake. There was no moon, 
but the sky was bright with stars and the air clear 
and warm, though Marian shivered with nervous 
excitement, and her arm shook against the one Lucy 
had thrust through hers. 

At the head of the slope above the dock the two 
stopped, panting, with a murmur of voices and the 
never-ending sound of moving feet still in their 
ears, and stared motionless at the scene revealed 
dimly below. The whole regiment was assembled 
5i 


CAPTAIN LZJCT 

on the dock in the starlight; a moving mass of men, 
at work over piles of bags and boxes, or standing at 
ease by their rifles, their outlines bulky with the 
burden of their field equipment, while alongside the 
dock three big government tugs were waiting with 
steam up. 

For a moment the two girls stood looking down 
at the men who were going away in darkness and 
silence to their duty, with no inspiring music for 
them, nor wives and children to wave them good¬ 
bye, for the women of the Twenty-Eighth had 
obeyed Colonel Andrew’s request that the partings 
be at home, to let the regiment get off quickly and 
in greater safety. But in another minute Lucy 
pulled Marian after her down the walk, until they 
were on the fringe of the great crowd of soldiers. 
One or two looked around at them in surprise, but 
Lucy hardly saw or heeded them. Her heart was 
swelling with generous emotion, and her throat 
ached intolerably with longing to do something,— 
anything,—for the aid and comfort, or at least the 
encouragement of these men of the Twenty-Eighth, 
so soon to share in the Allies’ pain and glory. 

But already the gangways were laid and the men 
filing down them, while others jumped from the 
wharf upon the decks. They moved without loud 
commands, as they had marched from barracks, 
and only a few low voices broke the stillness of the 
52 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


early morning, that sleepy time when even the 
harbor is almost clear of shipping, and the big city 
nearly dark. 

Suddenly Lucy caught sight of a tall figure 
standing at the bow of the nearest boat, and with¬ 
out a word she made a rush in its direction, Marian 
following blindly. Already curious glances were 
peering at the two children out of the dimness, and 
Lucy’s heart beat with fear that they might be 
obliged to go before she could bid even this friend 
good-bye. She stole up cautiously and laid a timid 
hand on the young officer’s arm. 

“ Mr. Harding,” she faltered, “ haven’t you time 
to tell us good-bye? ” 

“ Why, Captain Lucy, what on earth,—well, I 
might have known you’d guess it somehow! ” ex¬ 
claimed the young man, startled but laughing 
softly as he gave Lucy’s hand a hearty clasp. “And 
Marian got up too? Well, you’re a couple of imps, 
but all the same I can’t help being glad to see you. 
And many, many thanks for the comfort kit. I 
never thought you’d really get it there in time.” 

“ I put in some postal cards addressed to me,” 
Lucy whispered. “ Won’t you please send back 
one when you get over there? ” 

“ Of course I will, Lucy,” he promised, glancing 
round at the boat, which was now filled to over¬ 
flowing with men and equipment, and ready to put 
53 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


off. 44 I have to go now, but you’ll never know 
how good it seemed to have some 4 family ’ here at 
the last minute, and I won’t forget to write.” 

He put one arm about Lucy’s shoulders and gave 
her an affectionate hug, while Lucy, feeling the 
burden of the war descending heavily upon her, 
swallowed hard and trusted to the darkness to hide 
the tears in her eyes. 44 I’ll take care of Bob when 
he comes,” he said in her ear. He gave her a salute, 
then with a laugh waved his cap for a last good¬ 
bye, and jumped on board at the heels of the bat¬ 
talion. 

When the boats had moved off through the 
shadows Lucy and Marian stole quickly home and 
crept back into the house like timid burglars. 

Once up-stairs, Lucy, suddenly grown anxious 
and remorseful about Marian, helped her cousin to 
undress and get back to bed, devoutly hoping that 
no harm would result from her impulsive act. 
Marian was very silent, but when Lucy turned at 
last to leave her she whispered from the pillow, 
44 Lucy, I’m glad you waked me,” and Lucy, 
stopping to answer her, felt it a plentiful return 
for her own kindness to know that Marian had 
forgotten everything else just then but the wonder¬ 
ful scene they had watched together. 

In spite of heavy and conflicting thoughts and 
fears Lucy soon went to sleep and only woke in 
54 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

bright sunlight as the clock was striking seven. 
She sat up and rubbed her sleepy eyes, with a 
sudden weight on her conscience and a desire to get 
rid of it as quickly as possible. 

Her kimono and slippers were within reach, and 
she put them on and ran down the hall into her 
mother’s room. 

“Why, good-morning, Lucy; you’re an early 
bird. I was just going to get up myself,” said 
Mrs. Gordon, propping her head up on her elbow 
as Lucy plumped down beside her on the bed and 
gave her a good-morning kiss. 

“ Well, I have something to tell you, and I 
thought the sooner the better,” explained Lucy. 
“ Perhaps you won’t like it much, Mother, but I 
hope you won’t mind.” 

“Why, what in the world is it?” asked Mrs. 
Gordon, looking puzzled. 

“ The Twenty-Eighth sailed last night,” said 
Lucy, talking very fast. “ You know Father 
wouldn’t tell us a word, but we guessed it somehow. 
And last night Elizabeth woke me up walking 
around, and while I was awake I heard the men 
marching and I woke Marian, and we went down 
to the dock and saw them off.” 

“Lucy,—the Twenty-Eighth gone! and you 
went down in the night?” cried Mrs. Gordon, 
astonished. 


55 


CAPTAIN LUCTf 

“ I know, Mother, I ought to have asked you, 
but I was so awfully afraid they would get away 
before you or Father could decide to let me go.” 

“ But Marian,—you took her too? ” 

“ It didn’t hurt her one bit, Mother. She is 
sound asleep now,—I just looked at her on my way 
out. And she wanted so to see them go. We had 
talked about it—she and Julia and I. Poor Julia 
didn’t see them after all, so I thought Marian 
might. And, Mother, we were the only ones to 
guess,—outside of the people in the regiment, I 
mean,—and we saw Mr. Harding and told him 
good-bye.” 

“ Why, Lucy, I’m so surprised I don’t know 
whether I am angry or not. I know you didn’t 
mean any harm, but I don’t like your stealing out 
like that. To think that the Twenty-Eighth has 
gone so soon! Your father didn’t say a word 
about it.” 

“ I’ll promise not to go again without telling you, 
so won’t you forgive me this time? ” Lucy pleaded. 
“ And, Mother, Mr. Harding said he would write 
us from the other side, and he promised that when 
Bob goes over he will take care of him.” 

“ If he only could,” sighed Mrs. Gordon, her 
thoughts too full for further reproof of her inde¬ 
pendent little daughter. “ Dick Harding was here 
only yesterday,—I’m glad you did see him to tell 
56 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


him good-bye. He must have wondered how you 
got there.” 

“ Hardly anybody saw us. We were there only 
a little while, and they were all so busy. I just 
had to see them go, Mother, and you would have 
felt the same way if you had heard them marching 
in the night.” 

“ Well, dear, I do know how you felt, and I 
forgive you, but let’s pray it doesn’t do Marian any 
harm. Now let me get up, for I want to see how 
Elizabeth is this morning. There must be many 
on the post who didn’t sleep much last night! ” 

Lucy got off the bed, and standing thoughtfully 
by the window, looked over toward the Infantry 
quarters beyond the parade and watched an early 
airplane skimming over them. 

Marian did not come down to breakfast, and at 
the table nothing was said about the departure of 
the regiment, for Major Gordon discouraged any 
war talk or discussion of army matters at meal time. 
But afterward Mrs. Gordon followed her husband 
into his study, while Lucy was speaking to Eliza¬ 
beth. 

“ James, to think I never knew of the Twenty- 
Eighth leaving,” she said reproachfully. 

Major Gordon stopped lighting his pipe to ask 
in surprise, “ What, have you heard it already? ” 

“ Earlier than this. Do you know Lucy and 
57 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


Marian went down to the dock to see them off? 
They heard them marching by and guessed who it 
was.” 

“ Great Ca?sar! ” exclaimed Major Gordon, who 
was a stickler for regular hours and undisturbed 
sleep for children, and who was more annoyed by 
Lucy’s escapade than appreciative of her patriot¬ 
ism. “What’s got into that child, anyway?” 

“ Oh, she just wanted to see them,” said Mrs. 
Gordon smiling. “I don’t think there was any 
great harm done. But of course she ought to have 
asked me.” 

“ She took Marian along, you say? Are you 
sure she’s none the worse for it? ” 

“ It didn’t hurt her a speck, Father,” said Lucy, 
who had stolen in and up to her father’s side. 
“ Please don’t be angry, because Mother has for¬ 
given me and it was such a wonderful thing to see. 
Marian is sleeping like a top. I’m going to wake 
her up in a minute.” 

Major Gordon blew some short i>uffs of smoke 
from his pipe and shook his head at Lucy, but he 
ended by laying a hand on her shoulder and saying 
relentingly, “ Well, we’ll have to let it go this time, 
because I must be off, and if your mother and you 
don’t tell me now what time you will be able to 
start for West Point next week I’ll be too late in 
telegraphing the hotel.” 


58 


CHAPTER IV 


LIEUTENANT BOB 

It didn’t seem possible to Lucy that Bob’s grad¬ 
uation was but a few days off, and the long 
four-year course, that had seemed never ending, 
shortened to three years and already over. And 
before she had got used to thinking about it the day 
before graduation had come and they were on their 
way. 

The island had seemed almost deserted without 
the men of the Twenty-Eighth, though some com¬ 
panies of Infantry from Fort Slocum had already 
arrived to replace them, together with a new lot of 
recruits in such great numbers that the temporary 
barracks on the new land were filled to overflowing. 
But still the regiment was sadly missed, even 
among these new activities, by many besides the 
families belonging to it, and the war once more was 
brought nearer home to the people of the post. 

West Point, in the whirl of graduation week, 
was brimming with activity and alive with visitors 
from every part of the country. Hardly a first 
classman but had some member of his family come 
to see him receive his diploma, and many had a little 
59 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


crowd made up of parents and young brothers and 
sisters, full of eager pride and interest in their 
son’s and brother’s new honors. All over the broad 
parades and along the shady paths by the river 
cadets were walking with their friends from home, 
or friends from near at hand, enjoying their day or 
two of comparative leisure after the hard laborious 
grind of their daily lives. Officers, visiting officials, 
women and girls in their brightest summer finely, 
mingled with the ever-present gray, brass-buttoned 
coat and white trousered uniform of the corps, but 
in the midst of the life and gayety of a lot of young 
people gathered together many minds this year were 
thoughtful, and many hearts anxious and heavy. 

Bob Gordon, in four months risen from second 
classman to first classman and now to second lieu¬ 
tenant, was too enormously interested in all these 
changes, with their strange and wonderful possibili¬ 
ties, to feel serious all the time, especially with his 
long three years at West Point over, graduation so 
suddenly come and his family there to see it and to 
hear the hundred things he had not had time to 
write about. 

“ It’s great to see you all here,” he said twenty 
times a day. 

It was true that when the hour for graduation 
exercises came, when he and his classmates received 
their diplomas from the hands of the Secretary of 
60 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


War, who in April had presented theirs to the real 
class of 1917 with the same simple ceremony, most 
of Bob’s fellow graduates paused to think how many 
of that class had already followed General Pershing 
to the battle-field. The Secretary’s address, always 
direct and brief, this year became suddenly true and 
real and vivid as he spoke, summoning the old ideals 
of the corps, and listening, Bob saw the heights of 
patriotism and sacrifice no longer dimly splendid 
but close at hand, and that hour near when every 
ounce of valor and endurance would be sorely 
needed which the twenty-year-old lieutenant could 
summon to his service. 

Even “ Benny Havens’ ” familiar words were 
changed to the singers and quickened into life. 

“ May we find a soldier’s resting-place, beneath a 
soldier’s blow, 

With room enough beside our grave for Benny 
Havens, oh! ” 

But after it was over, Bob’s gay smile chased 
away the shadow from his parents’ eyes in the 
moment he came to shake hands and be congratu¬ 
lated before he hurried off to say a hundred good¬ 
byes. 

They were all to leave West Point by the noon 
train on graduation day, and Lucy could hardly 
wait with reasonable patience to get Bob safely 
home. 

61 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


“ I’m afraid something or other might change 
their minds about your leave,” she explained apolo¬ 
getically. “ Though I suppose they could do it 
just as well after you get home.” 

“ Just exactly,” said Bob laughing. 

Lucy made no secret of her devotion to her 
brother, and neither did he of returning it. Lucy 
was young for her age, and part of the reason was 
that Bob had always made a pet of his little sister, 
but Lucy, on the other hand, had got him out of 
scrapes and begged off punishments for him from 
the time she was four and could just manage to 
make her father understand her pleadings when 
Bob’s ten-year-old naughtiness had come to grief. 
Though they were six years apart they had grown 
up companionably together, and had hardly known 
a parting until Bob became a West Pointer. And 
now Lucy dreaded and tried not to think of the 
parting to come. In her ears as in her mother’s, 
the Secretary of War’s stirring words had struck 
more heavily than on those of the boys themselves. 
Duty—Honor—Country,—this is the shield of 
West Point, and it must often be borne by others 
than those who have grown to manhood within its 
walls. 

One thing distracted Lucy from her absorption in 
Bob and his affairs. During the two days the Gor¬ 
dons spent at the Military Academy, Marian walked 
62 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


farther than she had done since coming to Gov¬ 
ernor’s Island. Mrs. Gordon had tried in vain 
there to induce her to take a little daily exercise 
which could be gradually increased until she be¬ 
came as strong and active as other children. 
Marian could not be forced to do what she did not 
want to by anything short of real brutality, and she 
had steadily refused to make the effort Mrs. Gor¬ 
don urged, though her manner of refusal always 
kept the ghost of politeness even in her most dis¬ 
obedient moments. But once her interest was 
aroused, as Lucy had already found out, her weari¬ 
ness could be resolutely overcome, and Bob, expect¬ 
ing to see a little invalid, had been agreeably sur¬ 
prised to find his cousin as keen to see everything 
he had to show as were any of the family, as well 
as very ornamental and charming in her lovely 
frocks and with the new-found animation in her 
face. She did not talk much, but then she did not 
often have a chance, with Bob and Lucy always 
chattering. William, like herself, was nearly 
speechless, and had trotted along beside the others 
with eyes and ears wide open, thrilled and happy, 
and missing nothing around him. 

They were all together on the train as far as New 
York for the homeward journey, but there Bob left 
them for some parting class festivities. The whole 
of 1918 had dinner and went to a play together, and 

63 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


afterward said good-bye again. Then Bob caught 
the last boat to Governors Island, and almost fell 
asleep while his mother was tucking him in bed. 

It was after ten next morning when Lucy, tip¬ 
toeing past Bob’s door, heard footsteps inside. 
The door opened and a tall, touzle-headed figure in 
a gray bathrobe came out indulging in a prolonged 
stretch. 

“Hello, Lucy! What time is it? Gee, but I 
had a great sleep.” 

“ Oh, it’s late, but we wanted you to sleep a lot. 
Hurry up now, though, won’t you, Bob, and put on 
your uniform? ” urged Lucy, dying with curiosity 
to see Bob a lieutenant. “ I’ll see that your break¬ 
fast’s all ready,” she added as an inducement to 
speed. 

“ All right,—have plenty of it,” suggested Bob, 
moving off in the direction of the tub. 

“ Oh, Elizabeth, come look who’s here! ” called 
Lucy over the bannister as she heard footsteps on 
the stairs. 

“ Mr. Bob! ” cried Elizabeth with beaming face, 
as she hurried up the stairs, broom in hand, and 
almost fell on Bob’s neck in her excitement. “ Oh, 
it was fine to have you home again! ” 

“ It’s pretty nice for me, too,” grinned Bob, giv¬ 
ing her hand a warm, friendly shake. “ Karl make 
any more of those fluffy muffins now, Elizabeth? ” 
*64 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

“ So soon I hear how you came last night, I tell 
him we will have muffins for breakfast,” said Eliza¬ 
beth, nodding her head with calm satisfaction at her 
own forethought. “ There’s plenty left, so get 
dressed, Mr. Bob. William would like to wake you 
up since seven o’clock.” 

“ All right, I won’t be a jiffy,” promised Bob, 
disappearing around the corner. 

An officer’s olive-drab service uniform is not very 
brilliant or striking, and Bob had seen lots of them 
all his life, but when he walked into the dining¬ 
room wearing one, not all the ohs and exclamations 
from Lucy, Marian, William, Elizabeth and finally 
his mother when she came into the room seemed a 
bit unnecessary or out of place. Even Karl, at the 
doorway for a greeting and scanning Bob with keen, 
intelligent eyes, gave a quick nod of approval, and 
Karl’s praise was not to be despised, for he had seen 
plenty of soldiering in his youth. If Major Gor¬ 
don had been there, no doubt he would have been 
just as proud of that uniform, though he never 
missed an opportunity to take off his own and 
change into “ cits ” when he left the post. 

Bob sat down finally and began to eat his break¬ 
fast with a naturally good appetite which had been 
sharpened by years of early rising and hard work. 
It was encouraged, too, by every one around him 
with such suggestions as: 

65 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


“ Here’s some raspberry jam, Bob. Put it on 
the muffins.” 

“ A little more bacon, I guess, now, Mr. Bob? 
And a poached egg? ” 

“ Look here,” Bob remarked at last in self-de¬ 
fense, “ if I eat like this for a week I’ll have to buy 
new uniforms, and I can’t afford to.” 

“ Oh, pooh, it wouldn’t hurt you to gain a few 
pounds,” scoffed Lucy, looking at Bob’s long legs 
sprawled under the table in their close-fitting 
breeches and shining leather leggings. 

The War Department granted to the graduates 
of the class of 1918 a week’s leave, but reserved the 
privilege of curtailing it by further orders. This 
reservation took away a good share of Lucy’s pleas¬ 
ure in Bob’s company, and kept her from plan¬ 
ning anything with real enjoyment. It made 
Bob feel, as he described it, like a train on a 
time-table marked, “ Subject to change without 
notice.” 

Bob lingered over his breakfast, enjoying to the 
full the right to get up when he pleased and decide 
leisurely what he wanted to do. But presently the 
whir of an airplane passing over the house made 
him jump nimbly up and run outdoors. 

“ That’s where I’m going this morning,” he de¬ 
clared, following the diminishing speck with eager 
eyes. “ I want to see the aviation school. It’s on 
66 


AND LIEUTENANTS BOB 

the new land beyond the Infantry Quarters, isn’t 
it, Lucy? ” 

“ Yes, over by the sea-wall. But don’t go and 
get crazy about aviation, Bob, the way all the young 
officers do,” frowned Lucy, who shared the popular 
delusion that aviation is the most dangerous arm of 
the service in war. 

Bob had followed his father and chosen Infantry. 
He had graduated fairly high and might have had 
Coast or Field Artillery, but a general impression 
that Infantry was most wanted in France had led 
to a sudden rush for it by the two classes graduated 
in 1917. 

“ I won’t ask to be transferred to-day, anyhow,” 
said Bob, looking down from the clouds. “ But 
there’s not much harm in watching them fly, do you 
think, Lucy? Want to come, William?” 

“ Yes! ” said William, so delighted at the pros¬ 
pect of going around with his brother that he turned 
a somersault on the grass while he waited to start. 

“ We’ll walk over with you,—shall we, Marian? 
We’re not supposed to go on the field, but we can 
go as far as the edge of it and bring William back.” 

Marian looked doubtful and asked, “ How far is 
it?” without much enthusiasm, but Bob said de¬ 
cisively: 

“ Oh, come along, Marian! Nothing could be 
far on this little island. You look as though Lucy 

67 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

were starting you on a voyage of discovery.' Come 
on, don’t sit home and mope,—no wonder you don’t 
eat anything.” 

Marian laughed and went slowly in for her hat, 
while William, overcome with impatience, tugged 
at his brother’s hand and called them all dreadful 
slowpokes. 

The aviation field was of course no great distance 
away, as the whole of Governor’s Island, including 
the reclaimed land, measures hardly three miles 
around. A walk across the wide parade to the 
Infantry Quarters on Brick Row brought them 
within sight of it, and, turning to the left with 
quickening footsteps as Bob’s interest grew keener, 
they came in a moment to the long stretch of level, 
grassy ground that borders the sea-wall. 

All the way across the parade, Bob had made 
Lucy and Marian laugh at his stories of the cadets’ 
desperate efforts to put variety into their hard¬ 
working lives. Bob had done his best to help his 
classmates enjoy life, in lawful as well as unlawful 
ways, and had written a play to be acted for the 
amusement of the camp which had been a wonderful 
success even if it had cost him a good many hours 
of study. The jokes which he repeated from it 
were all pure West Point fun, most of them true 
occurrences and rather unintelligible to an outsider, 
but Lucy had been up there enough to understand 
68 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


them pretty well, and Marian guessed a good deal* 
with a sharpness no one gave her credit for. 

But as soon as they neared the aviation field Bob 
grew silent and had no eyes for anything but the 
big shelter sheds at one end, and the group of men 
gathered about a machine they had just rolled out 
of one of them. He took leave of his companions 
with quite unflattering haste, saying, “ Well, good¬ 
bye, and thanks for coming with me. I’ll be back 
before lunch.” 

He waved his cap and walked on, while Lucy 
grabbed William’s unwilling hand as he started to 
follow and explained, “You know you mayn’t go 
there. You’re not an officer. Be good, William, 
please! ” 

“Well, I’m not a girl!” shouted William in¬ 
dignantly, then forgot his anger at sight of a big 
biplane that came swooping down upon the field 
and ran swiftly on its little wheels to the open mouth 
of the hangar. 

“ Oh, what a beauty!” said Lucy with shining 
eyes. “ I don’t wonder Bob loves them. Come 
on, Marian, we might as well get Julia and go to the 
Red Cross a little while.” 

At lunch-time, Bob reappeared, terribly hungry 
and in fine spirits. 

“ I found Captain Evans out there, Father,” he 
said as they sat down to the table. “ He came yes- 

69 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


terday to join that new battalion from Fort Slocum. 
And Captain Brent is here too, isn’t he? I didn’t 
know he’d gone in for aviation. I remember him 
at Fort Leavenworth when he used to play with us 
kids just after he graduated. He’s a fine fellow. 
Give me some bread, please, Karl. I sure am 
hungry.” 

After luncheon, when they were all gathered on 
the piazza for the few minutes before Major Gor¬ 
don returned to his office, Marian said suddenly to 
Bob, “ Karl looks at you as if he wished he had on 
a uniform himself.” 

“ Perhaps he does,” said Bob grinning. “ Oh, 
he’s as German as the Kaiser, but what cream-puffs 
he can make! ” Bob had just eaten three of them. 

“ Think they have softened his heart, Bob,—is 
that the idea? ” asked Major Gordon, lighting his 
pipe. 

“ No,—but they have softened mine toward him. 
Before I went to West Point I used to hate his self- 
satisfied ways, but whenever I ate one of his cream- 
puffs I didn’t so much blame him.” 

“ I don’t think I ever remember your eating onep 
remarked Lucy thoughtfully. 

Bob laughed, then said as his father rose, “ I’m 
going to walk to Headquarters with you, Father. 
Then I’m going to play a round of golf with Lucy, 
though she didn’t know it until now, and after that 
70 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


I’m going over to see Captain Brent a little while* 
I want to ask him about a million things.” 

Toward four o’clock of that afternoon, when the 
squad of recruits drilling on the hot parade began 
to look longingly toward the descending sun and 
listen eagerly for the bugler sounding recall, Bob 
walked home at a slow and thoughtful pace. 
William and Teddy Matthews were playing on the 
grass by the piazza and rushed to welcome him back, 
but when he left them and entered the house he 
found it quite deserted. Lucy and her mother were 
out giving some of the invitations for a party in 
Bob’s honor to include Julia and the girls and boys 
Lucy’s age as well as the older girls and young 
officers. Marian was taking a nap up-stairs, hon¬ 
estly tired out. Bob went into the kitchen and 
found Elizabeth’s little figure bending over the 
oven. 

“ How are you, Elizabeth? Did the dentist hurt 
much?” he asked, perching on the kitchen table 
and carefully removing a handkerchief wrapped 
about his thumb. 

“ Oh, not so much, Mr. Bob,” said Elizabeth, 
straightening up with a quick smile. “ But what 
was wrong with your hand?” she inquired, the smile 
fading as she caught sight of Bob’s bruised and 
swollen thumb. 

“ I squeezed it,—in a door,” explained Bob, try- 

71 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


ing to wiggle it and stopping short. “ Ouch, it’s 
stiff. Suppose you could do anything to keep me 
from losing the nail, Elizabeth? What a bother! ” 

“ Sure could I,” said Elizabeth, whose English 
grew worse when she was excited, taking the in¬ 
jured hand in hers and examining it closely. 
“ Stay here until I cold water bring.’’ She ran for 
a bowl of water, into which she slipped a piece of 
ice. “ Now,—put your hand in, so. I will see 
what I can get up-stairs.” 

Bob sat with his thumb in the ice-water, and felt 
the ache gradually lessen until Elizabeth came down 
again with witch-hazel and a strip of bandage. 

“ Now I will wrap you up good. It is a little 
better, yes? Oh, it will not be so bad.” 

“ You’re a brick, Elizabeth. What should I have 
done without you? ” said Bob gratefully, looking at 
the little German woman’s eager, sympathetic face 
and feeling her nimble, gentle hands as they 
wrapped up his sore thumb in a cool, wet cover¬ 
ing. 

Elizabeth laughed, fastening the tail of the 
bandage about his wrist. “ Oh, Mr. Bob, how you 
used to get mad at me when I tell you to wash your 
hands! You remember? ” 

“ Don’t I, though? Wasn’t I a bad little kid! 
William is a lot better.” 

“ You were not bad at all,” said Elizabeth 
72 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


quickly. “ Your mother has not one bad child got, 
but boys are always plenty of trouble. I not for¬ 
get, though, when I was so long sick at Leaven¬ 
worth, how you came and sat with me, and stayed 
in from your play when I was all alone, while I told 
you little stories of old Germany.” She looked up 
at Bob with eyes full of affection, as though she 
still saw in the tall young officer before her the kind 
little boy she had known. 

“ Did I, Elizabeth? ” asked Bob, smiling. 
“ Thanks ever so much for fixing me up,” he added 
as he examined the neat bandage with approving 
eyes. “ I declare, it feels nearly all right again.” 

Bob went back to the dining-room. Then, hear¬ 
ing voices from his father’s study, he went there 
and found Karl bowing and departing after a con¬ 
versation with Major Gordon. 

“ Hello, Dad, I didn’t know you were here,” he 
said, sitting down near his father’s desk. 

“ I came in just a few minutes ago. I was rather 
anxious to hear about you. Well, did they let you 
fly?” 

“ You bet they did. Captain Brent was as nice 
as possible about it. He took me up as his pas¬ 
senger. We flew all around the island and over 
the Statue of Liberty. Dad, it’s great! ” 

“What happened to your hand?” inquired the 
Major, without any great enthusiasm in his face. 

73 


CAPTAIN LUCr 


“ Oh, just stupid of me. I was so busy watching 
the plane rolled out that I got my thumb caught in 
the shed door. I didn’t feel it much then, but it 
swelled afterward, and Elizabeth just tied it up 
for me.” 

“ Well, don’t go up again just now, Bob, will 
you? And we needn’t mention it to your mother.” 

“ All right, Dad. But what I really wanted to 
ask you is this. How do you feel about Karl living 
here since we are at war? Of course he’s not a 
reservist and past the age for military service, but 
I’m blessed if he looks like anything but a German 
to me, even if he has been so long with us. Don’t 
you think they could use him for something in the 
spy line? ” 

“ No doubt they could,” returned Major Gordon, 
“ although I don’t think Karl’s brains are of the 
acute order to make a valuable spy. But I’ve 
thought the situation over for some time, and I feel 
about the way you do. In fact, Karl and I were 
talking things over just before you came in, and he 
quite sensibly said he had decided that he and his 
wife would be more comfortable for the duration of 
the war if they went to a neutral country.” 

“ There aren’t very many he can get to. Does 
he mean Mexico? ” 

“ Probably. I didn’t question him about it very 
closely. But wait until I have to tell your mother 
74 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


and the children that Elizabeth is going, too. She 
doesn’t know it yet herself, but of course she won’t 
leave Karl.” 

“ Where’s Bob? ” called Lucy’s voice from the 
hall, with the sudden sound of footsteps. “ Oh, 
here you are! ” she answered for herself, entering 
the study flushed and warm after their sunny walk 
about the post. 

“ Why, what’s happened to your thumb, Bob? ” 
asked Mrs. Gordon from the doorway, coming for¬ 
ward as she caught sight of Bob’s bandaged 
hand. 

“ Nothing much, Mother,” Bob reassured her. 
“ I squeezed it in the door of the aviation shed and 
it hurt a little, so Elizabeth tied it up.” 

“ Are you sure it doesn’t hurt now? ” insisted 
Lucy, touching it gingerly. 

“ Not a bit.” 

“ I must go out and speak to Karl about our 
little party,” said Mrs. Gordon, picking up her 
parasol and turning toward the door. 

“ Were you at the aviation field again this after¬ 
noon? ” asked Lucy, curiously. “ I thought you 
were at the Bachelor’s Quarters with Mr. Brent.” 

“ I met him there,” explained Bob, “ but we went 
out afterward.” 

“ And went to the aviation field? ” Lucy’s eyes 
were fixed so hard on her brother’s face that he 
75 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

wanted to laugh as she went on with deliberate cer¬ 
tainty, “ I know—now. You went to fly. Why 
wouldn’t you tell me? ” 

“ Sh-h! I would have told you, but Dad thought 
Mother might worry about it,” said Bob, smiling at 
Lucy’s big, reproachful eyes and the little, worried 
frown between her brows. “ There wasn’t any 
danger, anyway, was there, Dad? They go up here 
every day, and there has been only one serious acci¬ 
dent since the school commenced.” 

“ Oh, Bob, wasn’t it great? ” cried Lucy, for¬ 
getting her fears in her own longings to share one 
of the many flights she had watched. “ Were you 
in the one that flew over the harbor an hour 
ago?” 

“ I guess so. We were up at about that time. 
It didn’t seem a minute that we were flying.” 
Bob’s face grew bright again at the thrilling re¬ 
membrance, and he turned eagerly to his father. 
“ How can any one say, Dad, that this war hasn’t 
the chances for heroism that other wars had? 
When you can be an airman—well, you know what 
I mean,—you can do anything.” 

Major Gordon tapped his pencil thoughtfully 
against his palm. “ If you have that particular 
kind of grit and steady endurance. Otherwise, 
you can serve your country much better on the 
ground.” 


76 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Dad, you’re a regular wet-blanket,” said Bob 
with a grin. “ I guess I’d better make a good in¬ 
fantryman first,—is that it? ” 

Lucy had slipped her arm through Bob’s and 
stood looking at him in anxious silence. Two days 
of leave were over, and it seemed such a little bit 
of a while remaining before Bob joined his regi¬ 
ment at Fort Totten. And that regiment, as 
everybody knew, was in fine trim and daily await¬ 
ing orders for the other side. Lucy scorned to wish 
Bob transferred to any other, but now she vaguely 
wondered whether a change to aviation would keep 
him longer from the battle-front, and what the dif¬ 
ference in his life would be. 

“ Come on, Captain Lucy. Let’s go find 
Mother,” said Bob, rousing his sister with a soft 
tweak of her hair as she rubbed her head thought¬ 
fully against his sleeve. 

“ Oh, I must go and tell Marian about the party. 
She must be awake,” said Lucy, hearing footsteps 
on the floor above and feeling that a glimpse of her 
cousin’s care-free prettiness might cheer her from 
her sudden gloom. 

“ There’s recall,” said Major Gordon, taking up 
his cap as the bugle sounded. “ I want to see 
Evans when he comes off duty.” 

Outside on the grass Elizabeth was helping 
William pick up his playthings, ending by doing 
77 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


most of it herself while he climbed onto her back 
and wound his arms around her neck. 

Major Gordon looked after them with a regret¬ 
ful sigh as Elizabeth finished by picking William 
up, playthings and all, and running with him into 
the house. 


78 


CHAPTER V 


MY ORDERS HAVE COME 

“ It isn’t as though they were strangers, or we’d 
known them only a little while,” Lucy protested, 
unconvinced. “ They’ve both been with us so 
long, I’m sure they are more American than any¬ 
thing else. In the three years we’ve been stationed 
here they’ve hardly left Governor’s Island.” 

“ Well, I think your father and Bob are right, 
just the same,” said Marian, rubbing her eyes. 

“ Perhaps they are,” sighed Lucy, fiddling with 
the pillow-case on Marian’s bed with restless fingers, 
“ but it seems somehow as though everybody was 
going at once. The Twenty-Eighth and now Bob, 
and we can’t even have Elizabeth left. We’ll never 
find any one to like us all the way she does, and take 
care of us. I don’t so much mind losing Karl,—he 
is obstinate and queer, and I don’t think he’s always 
very kind to Elizabeth, though he’s served Father so 
faithfully. But it’s just a shame they have to go 
now when Mother has so much to bother her any¬ 
way.” Lucy’s usually cheerful face was heavily 
clouded. 

She was sitting on the floor by Marian’s bed the 
79 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


morning after Bob’s party, her kodak, which she 
had run up-stairs to get for him, beside her, while 
she poured her trouble into Marian’s sympathetic 
if sleepy ears. Marian had grown fond enough of 
Lucy to feel an interest in all she cared about. In¬ 
deed, her companionship with her cousin, the first 
she had ever had with a girl her own age, was the 
strongest influence so far in awakening her from 
her dull and fretful indifference. 

Lucy had known nothing of her father’s decision 
in regard to Karl and Elizabeth until this morning. 
Mrs. Gordon had talked matters over with her hus¬ 
band the evening before, but Lucy had been too 
much occupied in getting out dance records and 
making sure that every one was coming to give heed 
to anything else. With the arrival of the battalion 
from Fort Slocum many new officers with their 
families were on the post. So she enjoyed Bob’s 
party as much as he did, though no one liked a gay 
crowd and a dance better than Bob, even when the 
crowd was only a little group of officers’ sons and 
young lieutenants, with a dozen girls from his own 
age down to Lucy’s, and the dance no more than 
rugs pushed back in two rooms, and a phonograph 
which Mrs. Gordon tended all the evening. 

Marian had danced without a sign of weariness 
and with a color in her pale cheeks at the unusual 
exertion that made Mrs. Gordon resolve to urge her 
80 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


again to take part in outdoor games with Lucy and 
the others. At eleven she had gone up to bed, tired 
out, but Mrs. Gordon was satisfied that she had 
enjoyed herself, and let her sleep the clock around. 

The clock on her mantel was striking now, and 
she sat up with a little less than her usual morning 
listlessness. 

“ I’m going to get up, Lucy. What’s the kodak 
for? ” she asked, reaching for her slippers. 

“ Bob wants it,” exifiained Lucy; “ he’s going to 
take pictures of the family to carry with him when 
he goes. Hurry up and be taken with us. I’d 
better go down now, I guess. He must think I’m 
lost,” she added, rising from the floor with a little 
of her serenity restored. 

Through the open door as she ran down-stairs 
Lucy saw Bob seated on the front steps engaged in 
conversation with Sergeant Cameron. So she 
stopped to put a film in the kodak at her leisure be¬ 
fore going out into the brilMant sunlight. 

Sergeant Cameron was standing at ease with one 
foot on the lowest step, his bright blue eyes fixed 
upon Bob’s face as the two exchanged a fire of in¬ 
terested questions. 

“ The Lieutenant expects to see sendee on the 
other side very shortly? ” he surmised, when Bob 
had told him the regiment to which he was assigned 
and the week’s leave allowed him. 

81 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

“ Yes, I’m pretty sure to,” Bob agreed. 

“And how do you feel about that?” persisted 
the Sergeant, his eyes brightening at the words. 

“ Oh, I shan’t mind it,” said Bob briefly, meeting 
the non-commissioned officer’s glance with the un¬ 
derstanding of old and well-tried friends. 

Bob’s feeling of respect and warm liking for this 
faithful veteran, a true type of the old “ non-com ” 
who forms so valuable and efficient a part of our 
service, a very tower of strength for his superiors to 
rely on, was oddly mixed with a secret boyish satis¬ 
faction at hearing himself called “ the Lieutenant,” 
in a respectful tone, by the old soldier who had 
taught him to ride bareback on the western plains, 
and scolded him unmercifully if he did not come up 
to service standards of horsemanship, when he was 
a long-legged youngster of thirteen at Fort Leaven¬ 
worth. 

Sergeant Cameron had not received enough early 
education to join the ranks of those younger non- 
coms who were eagerly working to pass the ex¬ 
amination for a commission which the shortage of 
officers had caused the government to offer them 
after the declaration of war. He was not, anyway, 
ambitious in that direction, preferring to fill the 
place in which he satisfied himself and others, with a 
comfortable knowledge that the service needed him 
and more men like him. If he had fallen under 
82 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Bob Gordon’s command, as Bob was sincerely wish¬ 
ing he had, the young lieutenant’s orders would 
have been carried out by him in the face of every 
hazard, with an unshakable faith and allegiance, 
though not with any dog-like submission. For he 
was a man of independent mind, whose honest 
thoughts, shining through his eyes, would have told 
Bob with every glance what heights of devotion to 
duty he expected of the Major’s son. 

“ Well, good luck to you, Sergeant, and good¬ 
bye, if I don’t see you before I go,” said Bob at 
last, getting up and holding out his hand. “ We 
may meet again, you know, before we expect 
it.” 

Sergeant Cameron took Bob’s hand in a quick, 
hard grasp, and murmured something no less 
hearty for being almost inaudible. Then he 
saluted stiffly and turned away in a rapid walk to¬ 
ward Headquarters. 

Lucy came out, screwing up the film in the rather 
refractory camera, as Bob turned to go indoors. 
“ Here I am, Bob; don’t be discouraged. Marian’s 
coming in a minute, too.” 

“ All right. Mother! Come and be taken,” Bob 
called through the window, bringing out Mrs. Gor¬ 
don and William in obliging haste. 

“Now you and Captain Lucy and Corporal 
William all stand there on the grass and look cheer- 

83 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


ful. Remember I’m going to carry these pictures 
nobody knows where,” cautioned Rob, in words 
hardly calculated to make the faces before him 
brighten very much, though they tried to do their 
best. 

“ Here’s Marian,” said Lucy, turning her head 
after the camera had safely clicked. “ Take her 
with me, Bob, will you? I want one for my¬ 
self.” 

“ And I’ll send one to Father to show him how 
fat I’ve grown,” said Marian, who felt very dutiful 
lately after making several weak attempts to eat 
when she did not feel like it. 

Mrs. Gordon smiled thoughtfully at the two girls 
as they stood with arms linked together, Lucy, sun¬ 
tanned and bright-eyed, filled with the energy which 
so often overdid itself in tumblings and breakings, 
and Marian, delicate and fair as a little flower in 
her fresh blue muslin dress, with new-brushed curls 
gleaming in the sun, but both grown pretty good 
friends in spite of so many differences. 

“ Now, Marian, I wish you would take one of all 
my children for me,” asked Mrs. Gordon when the 
film was turned again. “ I will stand off here and 
tell them how to look.” 

“ All right; come on, Bob,” said Lucy. “ You 
stand here, me next and William last, so we’ll look 
like a nice little flight of steps.” 

84 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

“ Bob takes ui) most of the room,” commented 
Marian, peering into the finder, “ but I suppose he 
ought to.” 

“ Of course,” said Bob seriously, while William 
nodded such a solemn agreement that everybody 
laughed, and Marian lost her range and had to 
start over. 

With this the film was used up and the family 
went indoors and sat down to lunch, after a tele¬ 
phone message had come informing them that 
Major Gordon had been called away to Fort Totten 
until night. 

“ I’ll develop these beautiful things after lunch,” 
said Bob as he laid down the camera. “ By that 
time it won’t be quite so hot for tennis.” 

“ Every time I see a post-card I expect to find 
my writing on it,” remarked Lucy, glancing toward 
the mail which Elizabeth had just brought in after 
the postman’s ring. “ Mr. Harding promised to 
write, and here it is the second of September, and 
we know the ships are safely there.” 

“ Just one for me and the rest are Bob’s,” said 
Mrs. Gordon. “ Play tennis early then, Bob, and 
get back in time to look over your things with me,” 
she suggested, opening her letter. “ I want to see 
what you need before I go to town to-morrow.” 

“ I can’t play tennis,” said Bob suddenly, in a 
voice that sounded excited, as he held out to his 
85 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


mother the sheet of paper he had taken from its long 
envelope. “ My orders have come. ,, 

“ Bob! ” cried Lucy and her mother in a breath, 
as Lucy sprang from her place to read over her 
mother’s shoulder the few typewritten lines. 

War Department 
Adjutant General’s Office 
Washington, D. C., September 1, 1917< 

So much of the leave of absence granted Sec¬ 
ond Lieutenant Robert Lee Gordon, 136th regi¬ 
ment of Infantry, by paragraph 6, special orders 
No. 82, as remains unexpired on the 3d instant is 
cancelled. Lieutenant Gordon will proceed to Fort 
Totten and report for duty not later than twelve 
o’clock noon of the 3d instant. 

By order of the Adjutant General, 

H. C. McNair. 

“ Oh, Bob,” said Lucy from the depths of her 
bitter disappointment; “they might have let you 
have three days! ” 

Mrs. Gordon let fall the paper on the table and 
took Bob’s hand in hers, while Elizabeth’s eager, 
troubled eyes watched her closely. 

“Will you go now,—this second?” asked William, 
standing puzzled and anxious by his mother’s chair, 
unnoticed in the general confusion. 

86 



C C 


y y 


MY ORDERS HAVE COME 














AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ No, not till to-morrow morning,” said Bob, his 
surprise over and a hundred questions flitting 
through his brain. “ Come, Mother, never mind! 
What’s a day or two, anyway? I have to go, so 
let’s be cheerful about it. Buck up, Captain Lucy! 
You be a sport.” 

“ I will,” said Lucy, smiling through the tears 
that trembled on her lashes. “ Look at Marian, 
Mother. She’s worried to death about us.” For 
at sight of Mrs. Gordon’s white face Marian had 
risen from her place overcome with sympathy, 
roused for the moment from herself and vainly 
trying to summon words of courage for another 
instead of asking them for her own need. 

Mrs. Goi'don looked around at them all and 
smiled, the color coming slowly back to her pale 
cheeks. “ It was so sudden, Bob,—I couldn’t 
realize it at first,” she said, patting Bob’s shoulder 
as he bent anxiously over her. “ But of course I 
ought to have known your orders might come at any 
moment. Your father told me so. But you get so 
many long envelopes marked Official Business that 
I never thought when I saw that one. Now we’ll 
have to get to work in earnest. We’ll finish our 
lunch, children, and go up-stairs and pack.” 

“ I have all the rest of the day and to-night,” 
said Bob cheeringly, smiling at Lucy, who was 
setting a good example by eating her dessert as 
87 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


calmly as she could with so many feelings struggling 
for utterance and her heart racing hard with painful 
excitement. 

“ I want just my steamer trunk and bag,” said 
Bob, falling back on details as the easiest thing to 
talk about at the moment. “ We’ll get that all 
done and shan’t have anything to bother about to¬ 
night. Do you mind calling up Julia and Mr. 
Lewis, Marian, and telling them we c^n’t play with 
them this afternoon? ” 

The sun was sinking when the boat from Fort 
Totten drew in to the Governor’s Island wharf and 
Major Gordon, stepping ashore, walked rapidly 
homeward. 

Inside his own door he found Bob coming down¬ 
stairs and accosted him with, “ Well, any news for 
you, Bob? ” 

“ Yes, Dad, my orders have come,” Bob returned, 
springing down to his father’s side. 

Major Gordon nodded his head, his eyes on his 
son. “ I thought so.” He lowered his voice a 
little as the two moved off into the study. “ I was 
sent for to-day to inspect the supplies for your 
regiment at Totten. Three transports sail this 
week under convoy of the cruisers in the river. 
What time do you report? ” 

“ To-morrow noon.” 

“ Well, son, how do you feel about it? ” Major 
‘ 88 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Gordon’s voice was not so calm itself as he put the 
question, one hand upon Bob’s shoulder. 

“ I’m sorry on Mother’s account,—awfully—but 
I want to go,” said Bob, gripping his father’s arm. 

Up-stairs Elizabeth had been helping Mrs. Gor¬ 
don in Bob’s room, and now she led William away, 
reluctant to go, though he was tired out with 
running from trunk to closet and tagging close at 
his big brother’s active heels. 

“ We’ll sit down in your room here and have a 
story, shall we? ” she proposed, drawing up a low 
rocking-chair by William’s bed and lifting the 
sleepy little boy upon her lap. 

“ What shall I tell? ” she asked, when William 
leaned comfortably back against her, his unwilling¬ 
ness to leave the others forgotten. 

“ Tell about the goose princess,” murmured 
William against her arm. 

“ But that you have so often heard,” protested 
Elizabeth, but faintly, knowing she would have to 
yield. 

As William only grunted in reply she plunged 
patiently into the little old story that was William’s 
favorite, and very easy to tell indeed, for William 
prompted her at every few words. 

“ Now the frog comes hopping in, doesn’t he? ” 
he raised his head presently to ask. 

“ Yes,” Elizabeth nodded, “ and up he came be- 
89 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


fore the little princess to stand, but she was so 
frightened she ran back to the chimney corner.” 

“And the stork,—what did he say?” put in 
William. 

“ The stork look very cross, poking out by the 
chimney his long neck, and he said, ‘ Only for good 
childrens will the frog answer your questions.’ 
Then the stork flap his large wings against the 
chimney and fly up out of sight. And while the 
little princess look up after him she see the sky 

through the chimney-top-” 

“ And the house was all gone, wasn’t it? ” 

“ The little house was all gone, and in her old 
blue dress the princess was on the hillside sitting, 
and her geese were making a fine noise around her.” 

“ And next day,” prompted William, when 
Elizabeth stopped to take a breath, then settled back 
comfortably once more to listen as she went on. 

William was always quiet and contented in Eliza¬ 
beth’s company. There was no end to the tales she 
could tell, all about elves and gnomes and strange, 
wise animals, and good and bad children who played 
among them. Her stories came from Elizabeth’s 
childhood in a country of simple-hearted, fanciful 
people, the kindly soul of old Germany, with its love 
of music and children and of tranquil happiness;— 
that Germany which is bound up with the Kaiser 
and his Junkers in their mad and pitiless thirst for 
90 



AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


conquest only by the blind obedience that comes 
from their simplicity. 

“ And where did it all happen, Elizabeth? ” 
William wanted to know when at last the story had 
come to a satisfactory end and the frog and the 
princess had reached an understanding. 

“ Oh, that happen far away from here, William. 
Over where I come from, in my old country,” Eliza¬ 
beth explained, untangling William’s legs from her 
apron. 

“ Could I go over there and see it, do you think? ” 
asked the little boy, smothering a yawn as he put 
the question. 

Elizabeth gave a heavy sigh which sounded so 
different from her usual cheerful self that William 
looked quickly around into her face and saw it for 
a moment set in sad, tired lines. But almost at 
once she smiled at him again and said briskly, 
“ Well, maybe you go some time there. But now 
we must go quick to bed.” 


9i 


CHAPTER VI 


GOOD-BYES 

“ I’ll develop those pictures and send them to 
you, Bob,” Lucy promised. “ I’ll send them to 
Fort Totten and they’ll be forwarded,—if you 
shouldn’t be there.” She evaded just then the sub¬ 
ject that was uppermost in her mind. 

They were on their way to the dock the morning 
of Bob’s departure, and he had just said good-bye 
to Karl and Elizabeth, who were in fact still stand¬ 
ing on the piazza steps, Elizabeth waving for the 
last time as they turned the corner by the General’s 
house. Major Gordon had ordered the govern¬ 
ment boat to Fort Totten with additional supplies, 
and Bob was to accompany his father on it, as well 
as Mrs. Gordon, who, for the privilege of seeing 
Bob a few hours longer, had hastily decided to spend 
the day with a friend at the fort, and return with her 
husband in the evening. 

Bob had only to say good-bye to Lucy, Marian 
and William, which he found quite enough at the 
moment when they reached the dock and the Gen¬ 
eral Meigs whistled a warning signal. 

92 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ You’ll write—I mean often, every day, won’t 
you? ” Lucy begged, looking up at Bob’s erect, 
soldierly figure and at the jolly boyish face that was 
so thoughtful just now, with a feeling like desperate 
homesickness in her heart. 

“ Oh, you bet I will, Captain Lucy. I’ll tell you 
everything. And j)erhaps I’ll be able to see you all 
again before we sail,” Bob suggested hopefully, 
wishing that Lucy were coming on the boat with his 
mother, to delay the parting a little longer. 

But Lucy hated good-byes as much as he, and 
she knew how Bob hated them, and in past days 
they had always agreed to get them over as quickly 
as possible. So when Mrs. Gordon called from the 
edge of the dock, “ Hurry, Bob dear! Father says 
to come,” Lucy managed to put on the brightest 
kind of smile as Bob took leave of William and 
Marian. When he turned to her she said cheer¬ 
fully, “ Good luck, Bob, old boy, and we’ll never 
stop thinking of you!” Brother and sister ex¬ 
changed a bear hug that knocked Lucy’s hat off 
onto the dock and then Bob, seizing his bag and 
raincoat, jumped down on the General Meigs’ deck 
by his mother’s side. 

Bob looked back at the three faces watching him 
as the boat pulled out, of which William’s was by 
far the most solemn, and waved his cap and called 
out a last good-bye. 


93 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


Lucy, gazing after him, saw his face blur as her 
eyes filled up with sudden tears, but she winked 
them angrily away and turned to Marian, when the 
boat’s white wake and stem were all that they could 
see. “ Let’s go home, Marian. I hate seeing peo¬ 
ple go, don’t you? ” were the inadequate words that 
came to her lips. 

“ Yes, I do,” said Marian, who looked as though 
she could understand, and putting her hand through 
Lucy’s arm she led the way back up the hill. 

Once in the house again Lucy dropped down on 
the first resting-place at hand, which happened to be 
the piano-stool, and sat with hands clasped about 
one knee, staring idly before her. For a moment 
she could not take up the round of duties her mother 
had left her, nor look sensibly ahead to what came 
next. It was too strange and hard to realize that 
Bob was gone. That his brief leave was cut short 
and ended, and with it all the pleasant things she 
had planned for the time they should be together. 
“ Bob’s gone,” she repeated to herself, and could 
not seem to go beyond the thought. 

What roused her was Marian’s coming suddenly 
over to take a seat beside her with a face so set with 
determination that Lucy looked at her in astonish¬ 
ment. 

“ There’s no use sitting here and doing nothing, 
Lucy,” Marian said decidedly. “ It will only make 
94 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


you feel worse. Let’s develop those pictures right 
away so that Bob will surely get them. I’ll help if 
you will show me how, and William can watch us.” 

Lucy could hardly help laughing, far as she was 
from feeling jolly, at Marian’s sudden assumption 
of authority. The change was almost startling from 
the self-absorbed passiveness out of which she could 
so seldom be roused, unless some one tried to make 
her do what she did not like. But in consequence 
her words had more effect now in distracting Lucy 
from her gloomy thoughts. 

“ All right, Marian, I will,” she smiled, giving a 
lazy stretch of her arms above her head. The family 
had risen early that morning, for the General Meigs 
left at eight o’clock. “ I have to do some telephon¬ 
ing for Mother first, but that won’t take very long.” 

“ Lucy! Are you here? ” called a voice from the 
piazza, and Julia Houston poked her head through 
a window. “ Oh, hello, I’ll climb in,” she added, 
getting over the sill with her usual swiftness of 
action. 

“I was just wishing you’d come, Julia,” said 
Lucy, rushing to meet her friend. “ Oh! Isn't 
he sweet! Where did you get him?” For Julia 
was clutching with both arms a fat, yellow New¬ 
foundland puppy that wanted awfully to get on its 
own feet. 

“ Somebody gave Father two of them,” explained 
95 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


Julia, dropping her wriggling burden on to the 
floor with a sigh of relief. “ And Father says we 
may keep only one, and for me to give the other 
away, so I thought I’d let you have first chance. I 
know you need cheering up to-day, and they are 
the cunningest, funniest little ducks. I have been 
playing with them ever since I woke up.” 

“ I’d simply love to have him,” exclaimed Lucy, 
shouting to be heard over William’s sudden squeals 
of delight as he came running in and saw the 
puppy. 

“ Oh, let’s have him, let’s keep him,—mayn’t we, 
Lucy? ” he begged from the floor, where he and 
the puppy were already a tangle of legs and paws, 
as the puppy delightedly recognized something 
near his own size to play with. 

“ I don’t know until we ask Father,” said Lucy, 
smiling. “ But I guess he won’t mind.” 

“ They’re just alike. We’ll have to label them 
to tell them apart,” said Julia. “ Father wanted 
to name them something German, because they’re 
so yellow, but I certainly won’t. I’ve named ours 
MacDougal after the Canadian officer who gave 
them to us, and I’ll call him Mac.” 

“ Well, we shall simply have to keep this one. 
He’s too sweet,” said Lucy, trying to push her 
fingers into the puppy’s thick furry coat while he 
rolled over in every direction. 

96 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Let’s name him something to remind us of our 
own men over in France,” suggested Marian 
vaguely, her mind still filled with the recent de¬ 
partures for the front. 

“ Call him American Expeditionary Force,” 
laughed Julia. “ He won’t come when lie’s called, 
so a long name does just as well.” 

“ You two think of a nice one,” said Lucy, getting 
up from the floor, “ while I do my telephoning and 
speak to Elizabeth. Then we’re going to develop 
some pictures, Julia, and you can help. William 
will take care of,—you name him now.” 

With the help of Julia’s lively company the 
morning was not very long in passing. By the 
time Lucy’s tasks were done and the roll of films 
had been developed, dried, and printed in the sun 
on the piazza steps, her spirits had recovered their 
usual brightness, and whatever lack of real cheer 
lay beneath she managed to keep to herself. 

By luncheon time William had become so at¬ 
tached to the puppy, who was still unchristened, 
with a choice of about twenty names of all sorts 
offered him, that Julia went home without him, 
leaving William beaming with delight. 

“ He may have some milk right on the table 
by my plate, mayn’t he, Lucy?” he suggested, 
carrying the new pet into the dining-room with 
him. 


97 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


“ No, he may not,” said Lucy decidedly. “ But 
he may have it on the floor while you eat. I’m a 
sight! ” she added, looking frowningly at her dress 
as she tucked back a wisp of hair. “ I never 
noticed how awfully I looked after all that work, 
but it’s too late to change now.” 

Lucy was feeling heavy-hearted again, at sight 
of the empty places at the table, and did not care 
much about eating. She had a funny moment 
though when Marian, noticing how indifferent she 
seemed to the good food before her, said coaxinglv, 
“ Go on and eat, Lucy, won’t you? You’ll feel 
much better if you do.” 

“ It seems like Alice through the looking-glass,” 
Lucy thought to herself, her lips twitching with 
amusement. “ Everything is turned around to-day. 
Suppose you eat something yourself, for a change,” 
she countered, glancing at Marian’s empty plate. 

After lunch she went up-stairs to change her 
dress, with a look at the fresh white one Marian had 
found time to put on when the pictures were fin¬ 
ished. She was soberly brushing her hair with hard 
slaps of the brush, before the glass, when Elizabeth 
passed by the door and stopped at sight of her. 

“ I fasten your dress, Miss Lucy, shall I?” she 
asked, hesitating in the doorway. 

“ Yes, please do,” said Lucy, feeling suddenly 
very much like hearing Elizabeth’s quiet, pleasant 
98 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


voice. “ Sit down and wait until I finish my hair 
and then you may help me.” 

“ So you are not too long, I wait,” consented 
Elizabeth, coming in the room and commencing to 
hang up clothes and put away shoes instead of 
sitting down as Lucy had suggested. 

“ Oh, Elizabeth, I hated so to have Bob go,” 
Lucy could not help saying, the thoughts she had 
kept back all day clamoring for utterance. “ It 
was so hard to have him here only two days,—and, 
oh, I wish to goodness you weren’t going too! ” 

Elizabeth paused in her work, her hand on the 
closet door, and regarded Lucy with sad face and 
wistful eyes. 

“ It is not that I wish to go, Miss Lucy,” she 
protested, shaking her head slowly and twisting 
nervous fingers in her big apron. “ It is very hard 
for me to leave you all so dear to me and go to a 
strange country.” 

“ Where are you going? ” asked Lucy, tying her 
hair ribbon in a hasty bow as she crossed the room 
to Elizabeth’s side. 

“ I not know,” Elizabeth responded uncertainly. 
“ Karl did not tell me. He only say, we must 
leave America. They do not want us here.” 

“ Oh, but we do want you, Elizabeth! ” exclaimed 
Lucy, fixing pleading eyes on the little German 
woman’s face, as though in despair of making her 
99 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


understand. “ War is a terrible thing! It has to 
come on all the people, whether they deserve it or 
not, but you didn’t want it any more than I did, and 
it’s not your fault.” 

“ I never think my old country fight with 
America, Miss Lucy! ” cried Elizabeth, tears stand¬ 
ing now in her eyes as she faltered out the words. 
“ So long our Kaiser keeps peace at home for us! 
I wonder now how he have to go to war.” 

Lucy did not quite know what to say to this, so 
she only put a comforting hand on Elizabeth’s 
shoulder. 

“ I hope, though, maybe the war end before Mr. 
Bob get to the battle-field,” Elizabeth suggested 
hopefully after a moment’s thoughtful silence, her 
habitual cheerfulness asserting itself even now 
above her melanchoty. 

“ Perhaps,” said Lucy doubtfully, her mind 
turned once more to her brother, with a glimpse of 
the closer meaning the war now held for all the 
Gordon family. 

“ Well, I must go down, Miss Lucy,” sighed 
Elizabeth, but she smiled at the same time and 
wiped away her tears with a corner of her apron. 

“ Wait a second. I have something for you,” 
said Lucy, opening the closet door and fumbling 
in the pocket of the blouse Elizabeth had just hung 
up. “ I printed a picture on purpose for you. It’s 
ioo 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


of Bob and William and me. I thought you’d like 
it.” She drew out the little snap-shot that Marian 
had taken the day before and gave it to Elizabeth 
with a glance at the little group,—Bob’s straight, 
soldierly figure, her own beside him, and William 
peeking around at his brother from the end of the 
line. Bob’s boots were especially in evidence, but 
it was a good likeness of all three. 

“ Oh, thank you, dear Miss Lucy,” cried Eliza¬ 
beth, beaming with pleasure at the gift, and even 
more at the feeling of still being friends with the 
Gordon children which the little talk had given her. 
“ I keep it always with me, and I often look at it 
and think of you.” 

She tucked the picture in the pocket of her apron 
and went off down-stairs, while Lucy, with a sudden 
return of the lump in her throat, sat down at her 
desk to mail a set of the pictures to Bob. 

When Mrs. Gordon came home late that after¬ 
noon with her husband, in great need of being 
cheered and comforted, for the activity at Fort 
Totten spoke plainly of the regiment’s departure, 
Lucy and Marian met her at the door with welcom¬ 
ing faces. Lucy had overcome her low spirits at 
last, with the satisfaction of angrily calling herself 
unpatriotic names, and she was firmly entrenched 
now behind her resolution of courageous cheerful¬ 
ness. 

ioi 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


No one had more courage than Mrs. Gordon, and 
her trouble did not show itself long, but Lucy’s 
sympathetic heart could guess it, even out of sight. 
Mrs. Gordon was used enough to seeing men called 
away to hazardous service. She had seen her hus¬ 
band go off to the Spanish War as a young lieu¬ 
tenant, to China at the time of the Boxer uprising, 
and to the Mexican border only a year ago. She 
knew that Bob must take his chosen place, but he 
seemed so young to go. This year, that would have 
made him a first classman at West Point, found 
him still a boy in his mother’s eyes, not grown to 
the measure of man’s trials and hardships. It had 
to be, and Bob’s mother knew it and submitted, but 
it was hard. 

Major Gordon was tired with a long day’s tedious 
work, and the family sat out on the cool piazza, 
where William ate his supper, while Mrs. Gordon 
told the little news she had of Bob’s fellow officers 
and surroundings. William played on the floor 
with his new pet, from whom he refused to be 
separated, the puppy’s big, awkward paws flopping 
in every direction and his furry body squirming 
with excitement when William pretended to be an¬ 
other dog and jumped at him. Nobody could help 
smiling at the jolly little beast, or at William’s de¬ 
light in him, and Lucy said: 

“ The puppy is the happiest person here. I think 
102 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


we need him, Father. Anyway, if you don’t let us 
have him I think William will go over and live at 
the HoustonsV’ 

“ Oh, keep him if you wish to,” said Major Gor¬ 
don, poking a boot at the puppy, who at once 
grabbed it in his little teeth and rolled over and 
over. “ Only don’t let him get to chewing up my 
clothes, William, or out he goes. What’s his 
name? ” 

“You said he was happy, Lucy, let’s call him 
that,” suggested William, grabbing his pet with 
both hands. 

“ Well, we’ve been trying to give him some 
grand name all day,” said Lucy, “ but I suppose 
we might as well come down to that and be done 
with it.” 

“ I like it,” said William. “ Your name’s 
Happy, do you hear? ” he told the puppy, who 
cheerfully wagged his tail, cocking one alert ear at 
his little master, while Mrs. Gordon drew William 
over to her side. 

The two days following Bob’s departure brought 
other changes in the Gordon household, for on the 
third day Karl and Elizabeth took their leave. The 
parting between William and Elizabeth was al¬ 
most a tragedy, as Lucy remarked, sinking into a 
piazza chair that afternoon, feeling, as she an¬ 
nounced to Marian, “ dead beat.” She began sort- 
103 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


ing the mail which had just arrived, her hands 
moving listlessly, her thoughts filled with the sail¬ 
ing of the One Hundred and Thirty-Sixth, which 
had taken place, to the best of Major Gordon’s 
knowledge, early that morning. Mrs. Gordon came 
out after showing the kitchen to the newly arrived 
cook, their only servant for the time being, and 
looked over Lucy’s shoulder. Together they seized 
the post-card Bob had mailed from Fort Totten 
the night before, and read the few words scribbled 
on it: 

“ Good-bye, and love from Bob.” 

In spite of Major Gordon’s announcement of the 
intended sailing this short message seemed to mean 
more to them, somehow, than any official tidings. 
Bob never said good-bye until the last moment. 

Lucy looked down among the neglected letters 
and papers again to hide her tear-dimmed eyes, but 
a moment later she held up a second card, exclaim¬ 
ing: 

“ Look here! Something nice has actually hap¬ 
pened! It’s one of my post-cards back from Mr. 
Harding! ” 

“ Oh, Lucy, let me see! ” cried Marian, rushing 
to her side in unusual excitement. 4 4 1 never really 
thought you’d get one back again.” 

44 1 did,” said Lucy confidently, and read aloud 
the lines written with indelible pencil: 

104 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Dear Captain Lucy: 

“ Here I am, and I haven’t forgotten my 
promise. We’ll soon be in the thick of it; but I 
can’t say any more, only I think of you often. 
Send me any news of Bob’s coming. R. H.” 

“ William was wrong, after all, when he said we 
could tell where it came from by the postmark,” 
said Marian, turning the card over with gentle 
fingers, “ for there isn’t anv postmark, except New 
York.” 

That evening, when the two girls were getting 
ready for bed, Lucy said to Marian, with relief and 
thankfulness in her voice, “ Anyway, there is no one 
else left to go just now.” But she was not quite 
right. 

Sergeant Cameron’s wife had been ill a long time, 
and in spite of every care she died a few days after 
Bob’s departure. The Sergeant was devoted to her, 
and soon he found his lonely little house unbearable, 
and his quiet round of duties grown suddenly dis¬ 
tasteful. So one morning he summoned up cour¬ 
age to ask Major Gordon to have him transferred 
from his staff* detail back to the regiment. Very 
reluctantly Major Gordon consented, for Sergeant 
Cameron’s loss was a heavy one with the Quarter¬ 
master’s Department sw T amped with work, and he 
had few such tried and capable assistants. 

“ I can’t refuse you, Sergeant,” he said at last. 

105 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


“ I’ve put in the application for you, and I think it 
will be approved. Our regiment is still at Platts- 
burg Barracks, but there is talk of its soon seeing 
foreign service. ,, Major Gordon thought of his 
own staff detail as he spoke, but whatever hopes or 
wishes he had in sympathy with the Sergeant’s, he 
gave no voice to them. 

“ I’m very grateful to the Major,” said Sergeant 
Cameron, saluting. “ And I’m sorry to leave—I 
am indeed, sir.” 

So it was that in that short, eventful summer 
Lucy saw her friends go one by one, in such sudden 
changes as even army life had never known before. 
And in their places came others who were not al¬ 
ways found to be such strangers either, for an army 
girl has friends from east to west, and must learn to 
bear partings bravely and make the most of those 
who are near at hand. 


106 


CHAPTER VII 


A TOUGH JOB 

It was the first week in November, and a chilly 
wind was blowing across Governor’s Island, shak¬ 
ing down the last leaves from the bare branches of 
the trees and tossing those on the ground into swirl¬ 
ing heaps. The sentry walking past the Gordons’ 
house wore an overcoat now, and Quartermaster’s 
men were putting up storm doors and windows all 
along General’s Row. 

Lucy and Marian were hurrying home from the 
Matthews’, for it was almost lunch time. For a 
month and a half Anne Matthews’ governess had 
been giving lessons every morning to Anne, Julia, 
Lucy and Marian, and she made them work hard 
enough to be hungry by twelve o’clock. Mrs. Gor¬ 
don had half intended sending Lucy to boarding- 
school this year, but just now she did not feel like 
losing her from home, and Lucy’s interest in the 
plan had also faded. She might have gone over to 
the city to school, but her mother would not consent 
to this for Marian, and had been very glad on the 
whole to accept Mrs. Matthews’ proposal. The 
four girls got along companionably together under 
107 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


Miss Ellis, and Marian had surprised them all by 
her quickness in catching up in spite of her handi¬ 
cap of lost schooling. 

“ It’s really cold, but it can’t be winter yet,” said 
Lucy, thrusting her bare hands into her sweater 
pocket and looking reproachfully at the sun, which 
did not feel so warm as it used to. 

“ There’s only a month and a half till Christmas, 
though,” Marian reminded her. “ When we be¬ 
gan tying up the soldiers’ Christmas packages last 
week it seemed awfully like winter, but Julia says 
maybe we’ll have Indian summer yet.” 

“ I never could make out when Indian summer 
comes. It’s always coming soon and then the first 
thing you know there’s a snow-storm,” remarked 
Lucy, running up the piazza steps as she caught 
sight of her mother sitting inside the window. 

Mrs. Gordon was reading a letter in the sitting- 
room, still wearing the hat and coat in which she 
had come from the Red Cross, and Lucy exclaimed 
as she entered the room: 

“ Oh, Mother, did you—is it from Bob? ” 

“ Yes, sit down and we’ll read it together,” said 
Mrs. Gordon, looking up for a second from the 
closely-written sheets. 

Bob’s letters, arriving very erratically from 
France, sometimes two and three at a time and 
often weeks apart, were precious things these days, 
108 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


and Lucy needed no second bidding. Marian, too, 
pulled off her blue velvet tam and sank down on the 
floor by Lucy’s side while Mrs. Gordon recom¬ 
menced the letter aloud. 

“ Dear Mother and all of you: 

“ No news from home for a week, because I 
haven’t been where I could get any, but hope to by 
to-morrow, when I shall have a chance to stop at my 
headquarters. I’ll mail this then, too, if somebody 
doesn’t turn up to take it in the meantime. 

“ It’s three weeks to-day since I was transferred 
to the Aviation Section of the Signal Corps, and I 
am just about beginning to realize how little I 
know, though it seems as if I had never worked so 
hard in my life. Behind the lines here—there’s no 
use in my being more definite, for they wouldn’t 
pass my letter—we beginners are kept at it, as long 
as there is daylight to work by, overhauling the air¬ 
planes after every flight, and learning their con¬ 
struction from end to end. I have been up twice 
as observer, both times with Benton—he’s a wonder 
in the air. They are awfully short of observers 
here, and I draw pretty well, and know how to take 
pictures. But that is as far as I have got yet, and 
it seems very little when there is such a monstrous 
lot of work waiting to be done. 

“ We get plenty to eat, Mother, and if we didn’t 
there’s a little village right behind us where they 
sell you food for almost nothing,—they’d give it to 
us if we hadn’t the money to pay. I think these 
are the kindest, friendliest people in the world. 

109 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


They can’t do enough to welcome us here, and it’s 
funny how much friendship can be expressed with¬ 
out knowing each other’s language. My French, 
as you know, is rather weak, but it’s better than the 
enlisted men’s,—still they seem to get what they 
want. 

“ Well, I must tell you the best piece of news I 
have. I met Dick Harding on the road day before 
yesterday, while I was marching a detachment from 
our squadron back to camp after an exercising hike. 
He was riding on reconnoitering duty with some 
other officers, so of course there wasn’t much time. 
But when he saw me he pulled up and jumped off 
his horse, and I halted my men while we shook 
hands and grinned at each other and tried to get 
everything we wanted to say into about three min¬ 
utes. I sure was glad to see him. He asked about 
you all and what I was doing and tried to arrange 
a meeting when we should be off duty, though that’s 
always too uncertain to count on. 

“ He looks well, though a little thin. Of course 
I hadn’t seen him since my furlough. He says his 
regiment—you know which it is—will go into the 
first line trenches this week. It has been declared 
in first-class condition and training, and mentioned 
already in home despatches. He is awfully proud 
about it, of course, and wants to show what they 
can do. It made me more than ever anxious to get 
somewhere in aviation. They need every one of us 
right now. He had to mount again almost at once 
to overtake the others, and I don’t know when we 
can find each other, for we are ten miles apart even 
while he’s behind the firing line. 

no 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Father’s regiment is somewhere in this sector, 
he told me.” 

“ Oh, Lucy, wasn’t it fine for Bob to see him! ” 
Mrs. Gordon stopped reading to exclaim. 

“ Wasn’t it? ” said Lucy with shining eyes. 
“ I’ve been hoping so they would meet. But go on, 
Mother, won’t you? ” 

“ There isn’t much more,” said Mrs. Gordon, 
turning to the last page. 

“ Don’t worry about whether you are sending me 
the right things for Christmas. If I get some of 
Lucy’s fudge I shall be thankful. We appreciate 
things so much more over here that it ought to be 
easier to choose them than when we were at home. 
Compared with the French we have so much just 
now. I hope the people back home won’t forget 
that there are few families in this part of France 
who have any money left to buy presents for their 
own soldiers. But anyway, we’ll share what we 
have with them. Nobody could help doing that. 

“ I have to get into my oiling togs now and go 
over a machine that has just come in. It’s Benton’s, 
and he has been flying over the German trenches. 
He came to the door of my place just then to say 
he was nearly frozen and was going to take a run 
to warm up. Our shacks are getting cold at night, 
too, but some of the men are out to-day cutting fire¬ 
wood. 

“ Good-bye, if I don’t find time to write any more 

HI 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


to-day. I’m almost too sleepy at night to put any¬ 
thing like a sentence together. But I always think 
of you a lot. 

“ With much love, 

“ Bob.” 

“ He never said whether our fruit cake came or 
not, Lucy,” cried Marian, disappointed. “ But 
perhaps it’s waiting where the rest of his mail is,” 
she reflected, tossing back her bright hair to look up 
inquiringly into Mrs. Gordon’s face. 

“ Yes, probably it is, dear,” Mrs. Gordon agreed, 
putting Bob’s letter carefully back into its envelope. 
“ I’m glad they have plenty to eat,” she added with 
a smothered little sigh. “ Lucy, call in William and 
we’ll have lunch. Here comes Father now. He 
has to hurry off to-day to inspect supplies for these 
new recruits.” 

The post had seen a good many changes in the 
two months since Bob’s regiment sailed. Many 
women of the Twenty-Eighth had packed up and 
gone away to their old homes or elsewhere. The 
new Infantry battalion had already been succeeded 
by another, and of the recruits of the early summer 
many were already overseas and all were trained 
men scattered to various regiments. Those drilling 
on the post now were not so numerous since the 
National Army camps had opened, though several 
hundred still remained in training, destined to fill 
112 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


vacancies among the regulars. In October another 
regiment had camped overnight on Governor’s 
Island to slip away to their transports at dawn. 
But this one had not been so fortunate as the 
Twenty-Eighth, and had sent back word of an un¬ 
easy passage made among attacking submarines in 
the midst of a heavy storm which almost drove the 
transports from their convoy. 

Mr. Leslie was straining every nerve to supply 
his lumber for shipbuilding as fast as the govern¬ 
ment asked for it, and he wrote feelingly of the 
great difficulties in the way of transportation, but 
also of brave and patriotic efforts in the West to 
get the utmost accomplished. He wrote much, too, 
rather anxiously, about his prolonged absence, 
though he had been a good deal cheered by Marian’s 
letters, which showed an increasing interest in her 
cousins and in the life of the post. 

Marion had taken it on herself to help Lucy a 
little in the tasks that fell to her share while Mar¬ 
garet was their only servant, and after luncheon 
they went out together on the jfiazza to put it in 
order after William’s playing circus there with the 
puppy most of the morning. William tried to help 
by picking up his blocks, but did not make much of 
a success of it and ended by sitting on the steps and 
holding Happy in his arms, while the puppy 
wriggled with wild curiosity to get down and find 

113 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


out what a squirrel on the grass was burying with 
its quick little paws at the foot of a tree. 

“ No, you can’t bother him. He has to get his 
meals buried for the winter,” William scolded, 
struggling with the fat little beast, which was al¬ 
most as strong as he was. 

“ Oh, let him go, William,” said Lucy. “ You 
know he’s afraid of the squirrels when he gets near 
them. He just wants to prance around and bark 
at them.” 

“ All right, then,” said William, opening his arms 
and letting Happy go with a wild rush and scamper 
down the steps, which finished as usual in his back¬ 
ing hastily away from the angry, chattering squirrel 
before him, to stand furiously barking for a minute, 
then stopping short to wag his tail in the most 
friendly way as though peace had been declared. 

“ He’s a fake,” said Lucy laughing. “ He can’t 
expect to scare them after that.” 

Marian went indoors, when they had cleared 
things up, to take her daily nap, and Lucy followed 
her mother up-stairs and into her room. 

“ What are you going to do, Mother? ” she asked 
uncertainly. 

“ Well, I think I’ll mend some of William’s 
clothes first,” said Mrs. Gordon, sitting down be¬ 
side her work-table. “ Why, Lucy? ” 

“ I just wanted to talk to you a few minutes,” 

114 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Lucy began, her face grown serious as she sat down 
and clasped her hands about one knee. “ Mother, 
I feel like an awful good-for-nothing saying this, 
but I can’t help it. I just have the blues terribly, 
and somehow it seems as though we were all wait¬ 
ing for dreadful things to happen, and nothing 
seems worth doing—at least nothing that I can do.” 

Lucy’s burst of unhappiness did not seem to sur¬ 
prise her mother very much, though she laid down 
her work a moment and looked rather anxiously at 
her daughter as she answered. 

“ I know, Lucy. I’m afraid we all feel a little 
bit that way just now. It’s a serious, worrying 
time for almost everybody, and the uncertainty of 
what lies before us is the hardest of all to bear. But 
you know, dear, if we give up being cheerful and 
brave we shan’t get any work done and we’ll feel 
worse than ever. Besides that, our letters to Bob 
will be anything but a comfort to him. We have 
got to find courage just as the women and girls of 
France and England did. And if you want useful 
work to do this winter besides our Red Cross, I will 
tell you of some right now.” 

“ Oh, what, Mother? I’d like to pitch right in 
and do something with all my might! ” cried Lucy 
from the depths of her eager, restless soul. 

“ You won’t think much of it when you hear what 
it is,” said Mrs. Gordon smiling. “ There isn’t any 
H5 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


glory in it, but I mean it when I say that it is some¬ 
thing worth while. I want you to give up your 
time and thoughts to making Marian a healthy, 
happy girl before her father comes home.” 

“ Oh, Mother,” said Lucy, disappointed. 

“ I know it doesn’t sound very inspiring, but take 
my word for it your reward will come if you do 
what lies in your way, and, Lucy, you never had a 
better chance to do something worth doing.” 

Lucy sat motionless, staring at the floor, like a 
statue in a blue serge sailor-suit. Her mother 
picked up her work again and began sewing a rip 
in William’s rompers, while Lucy moved a little, 
unclasped her hands about her knee and took a turn 
in staring at the ceiling. Her face was not exactly 
gay, though no one could accuse her of sulkiness. 
She looked like a person thinking out a sum in 
arithmetic. At last she spoke. 

“ Well, Mother, I’ll try. Are you quite sure 
about that reward? ” she asked, smiling now as she 
turned to her mother with a rather mocking twinkle 
in her hazel eyes. 

“ Quite sure,” said Mrs. Gordon, undismayed. 
“ One way or another it will come.” She smiled 
back at her daughter, well pleased with Lucy’s an¬ 
swer, for she knew it to be as good as a promise, 
and its accomplishment would mean something 
gained not only for Marian but for Lucy as well. 

116 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ I’m not surprised that you took a minute to 
think it over,” she continued seriously. “ I know 
it won’t be easy.” 

“ Well, I said I wanted a tough job to tackle,” 
said Lucy, rising from her chair with a faint sigh. 
“ Don’t expect any startling results,” she warned 
her mother, breaking into another smile as she 
looked back at her. “ I’ll get Marian now and go 
over to the Red Cross for a while. I promised 
Julia.” 

Half an hour later, when the three girls were at 
work over a table of gauze in the Red Cross rooms, 
Lucy began wondering to herself, even while she 
talked of other things, how she was going to accom¬ 
plish what she had undertaken. She glanced at 
Marian, whose golden head was industriously bent 
over her work, wishing rather helplessly for a wand 
which, with one quick wave, would transform 
Marian into a strong, active girl, with no nerves to 
bother about. 

Any one spending the day at the Gordon house 
now would probably have seen little to find fault 
with in Marian and much that was attractive. No¬ 
body gave her more credit than Lucy for the change 
in her during the past few months, which had turned 
Lucy’s feeling for her cousin from pity to warm 
liking and even admiration. But the improvement 
had only begun, and it only persisted as long as 
n 7 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


Marian was amused or interested or her sympathy 
aroused. There were still times of sulky indiffer¬ 
ence, of listless weariness, and most of all of ob¬ 
stinate refusal to help herself or exert her will to 
exercise or to eat her meals when she did not happen 
to feel like it. These were the hurdles in Lucy’s 
way if she was to make Marian well and happy as 
every fourteen-year-old girl ought to be, and the 
obstacles loomed rather large just now, even with 
Marian before her in her brightest mood, and look¬ 
ing so pretty as she laughed and talked while her 
fingers worked that no one would have credited her 
with a single pout. 

Unconsciously Lucy commenced the best way, 
for as she listened to Marian telling Julia the story 
of Happy’s complete destruction of her best hat, 
Lucy summed up two great qualities in Marian’s 
favor, and began to feel a wider understanding and 
sympathy with her cousin for thinking of them. 
Marian was extremely generous. She loved to give 
things away, and the loss of any of her own posses¬ 
sions worried her very little, or if as in this case it 
was a disappointment, she bore it good-humoredly. 
She even gave the puppy a forgiving pat with the 
poppies torn from her hat still clenched in his 
wicked jaws. Here Lucy skipped to the second 
point in her catalogue of virtues. Marian was cer¬ 
tainly not vain or even conscious of her beauty. 

118 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Beyond a careful regard for her appearance which 
had been taught her since babyhood, she gave little 
thought to herself and laughed in honest amusement 
if Lucy grew enthusiastic sometimes when her 
pretty little cousin put on something especially be¬ 
coming. 

Occupied with these thoughts, Lucy did not get 
so much work done as the others, besides being 
rather silent, and provokingly failing to answer 
several times when she was spoken to. 

“ Lucy Gordon, you’ve only made fifteen com¬ 
presses, and you have been quiet enough to work, 
goodness knows,” said Julia at last, looking at her 
friend with accusing eyes. “ Of course if you’re 
thinking out how to end the war or something really 
important to the country we won’t disturb you, but 
you might think aloud. I’d like to hear it.” 

Lucy laughed. “ My ideas would be almost as 
valuable as our parole man’s. He is always tell¬ 
ing Margaret what he thinks of the war. The 
other day I was out in the kitchen making fudge for 

Bob- Oh, dear,” she interrupted herself, “ it 

will be so stale when he gets it if he only goes for 
his mail every week or two! ” 

“ But what were you going to say? ” insisted 
Julia, as Lucy seemed to have subsided. 

“ Oh, only that I listened to Mat talking to Mar¬ 
garet in the pantry. He said, * You see, it’s this 
119 



CAPTAIN LUCY 


way. Either the Eye-talians will be able to stay 
where they are, or they will have to retreat/ I felt 
like telling him that maybe Margaret could have 
thought that out for herself, but she seemed quite 
impressed by it.” 

“ Is she nice? Do you like her? ” asked Julia. 
“ I don’t see her often the way I used to Eliza¬ 
beth.” 

“ Oh, she’s nice,” said Lucy. “ She’s kind of 
poky, and of course Father thinks Karl is the only 
person in the world who makes good coffee, but 
Margaret almost suits him. We do miss Elizabeth 
awfully, though. William simply can’t get used 
to having her gone. He asked me yesterday if I 
thought Elizabeth would like Happy when she came 
back. He doesn’t seem to get it through his head 
that she isn’t coming back.” 

“ She might, though, Lucy, when the war is 
over,” suggested Marian. 

“ Yes—when,” said Lucy without much enthusi¬ 
asm, thinking of Bob. 

“ Have you any idea where they are now? ” asked 
Julia, beginning to pile up her finished work. 

“ No, not a bit. Elizabeth said something to me 
the day she left about going to Sweden, but I don’t 
really think she knew. Karl told Father they might 
go to Mexico. She sent William a post-card from 
Boston a few days after they left here.” 

120 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Let’s stop now and go outdoors,” proposed 
Julia, pushing back her chair. “ I’m so tired of 
sitting still I’m getting fidgety.” 

“ Let’s go out and teach Marian to play golf,” 
said Lucy, taking her bull by the horns. 

“ Yes! Will you come, Marian? ” urged Julia. 
“ We’ll only play a little while until it gets dark. 
I know you’ll like it.” 

“ I’ll come along and watch you, anyway,” 
hedged Marian, reaching for her hat and not look¬ 
ing especially eager for a new effort. 

“ But it’s no fun watching, and you’d love it so if 
you only once got interested,” insisted Lucy, as the 
three got up and found their hats and sweaters. 
“ I wish Bob had stayed long enough to teach you! 
He said he would and maybe you’d have let him. 
Come on, so we can write and tell him how much 
you’ve done—won’t you? ” 

They had reached the foot of the stairs to the 
first floor by the time Lucy finished her appeal, and 
as they stepped outdoors Marian demanded with a 
sudden, fleeting smile: 

“ If I play this once, Lucy, will you let me alone 
afterward? ” 

“ I promise,” said Lucy promptly, with unshaken 
confidence in her favorite game. “ It’s you who 
won’t let me alone then.” 


121 


CHAPTER VIII 


OVER THE TRENCHES 

While Lucy’s thoughts were so much with Bob 
across the seas he was wrapped up heart and soul 
in the work in which he longed to excel. Not but 
that an hour came every day when he thought of 
home and longed for those who waited for him, but 
the hour was a short one, for he needed all the time 
he could spare for sleep, to keep his brain alert and 
clear as an aviator’s must be who does not court 
disaster. 

Not that Bob was an aviator yet, after eight 
weeks of training, but he began to be called upon 
pretty frequently by Captain Benton to accompany 
him in his flights. Bob’s duty as observer was 
to sit in front of the pilot, with a map fastened on a 
board laid across his knees, and keep a close watch 
of the country over which they flew, usually as 
nearly adjacent to the enemy’s lines as possible, 
noting every change in the German positions which 
might be of value, such as new trenches, roads, rail¬ 
ways, hidden artillery or machine-gun emplace¬ 
ments. With powerful field-glasses he scrutinized 
the earth below, hastily sketching in on his map any 
122 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


alterations observable, as well as keeping a sharp 
lookout for exploding shrapnel aimed too accurately 
in their direction. 

Bob was an excellent draughtsman, the second in 
his class at West Point, and for the honor of ac¬ 
companying Benton he practised his sketching at 
every random opportunity. Together the two flew 
repeatedly over the German lines, sometimes re¬ 
tiring swiftly before pursuing guns, sometimes 
getting just the information they wanted and re¬ 
turning triumphant. Bob was becoming an expert 
mechanic, and he looked forward with boundless 
eagerness to the time when he should be a fearless 
pilot like Benton, for he had learned with joy in 
the past month that the “ grit and steady endur¬ 
ance ” his father had spoken of were really his. 

Meanwhile in Benton’s two-seated biplane he 
scouted over numberless French villages, and grew 
to have a knowledge of the battle-front stamped on 
his mind with the geometrical exactness of a map of 
the earth seen from thousands of feet in the air. 
Benton was known not only to his friends but to 
the Germans as well, where his reputation was 
firmly established as an enemy worthy of respect. 
His airplane was watched for, and its easy, graceful 
evolutions marked out at once by anti-aircraft 
gunners. But Benton was not fond of bravado, 
and he took few unnecessary risks. His dangerous 
123 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


flights were made in safety, and Bob’s confidence in 
the air daily increased. 

All during November he and Benton worked to¬ 
gether outside of Bob’s hours of practice and study, 
and the last of the month found them firm friends 
and pretty constant companions. 

It was on November 24th, at about seven in the 
morning, that an orderly brought word to. Bob, at 
breakfast in the mess shack, that Captain Benton 
wished to see him. Bob swallowed his coffee, went 
out and found Benton standing in the field by his 
airplane, looking carefully over the wire supports. 

“ Sorry to hurry you, Gordon,” he said pleas¬ 
antly as Bob came up, “ but I want to get off at 
once if you can manage it. They just telephoned 
us that the Germans have fortified the village of 
Petit-Bois, up the valley there, for their expected 
retreat, and information is wanted of their defenses 
as soon as possible.” 

“ I’m ready,” said Bob. “ Five minutes to get 
my camera plates and stuff.” He was dressed for 
flying, in fur-lined service coat, and it only re¬ 
mained to fetch gloves and fur helmet from his 
shack. 

The morning was dull and cloudy, with a raw 
coldness in the air. To Bob one of the delights of 
an early start was to fly up into the rays of the 
morning sun. But to-day when, ten minutes later, 
124 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

they mounted toward the east, the cold, gray clouds 
seemed endlessly banked above them, and Bob 
picked up the speaking tube to say, doubtfully: 

“ Not much photography to-day, Benton. Did 
you expect it? ” 

“ No,” Benton replied. “ We shan’t be able to 
get within range for that unless they are all asleep.” 

At eight thousand feet an airplane is almost safe 
from rifle or machine-gun fire. But at this height 
no photographs of any value can be taken. To fly 
at four or five hundred feet over the enemy would 
be ideal for observing and photography, but would 
mean almost certain death to pilot and observer. 
So an unsatisfactory middle course of two to four 
thousand feet is usually adopted. Benton did not 
hesitate to fly low where he could gain valuable in¬ 
formation, but he was usually prudent. 

Bob’s map was spread across his knees, and as 
they neared the German lines he scrutinized with 
his glasses the outskirts of the village they ap¬ 
proached. Nothing new seemed to require closer 
attention here. Benton circled and flew behind the 
village, rising a hundred feet higher as black, white 
and yellow puffs of smoke appearing from below 
indicated enemy guns aimed at the tiny target the 
biplane offered. Suddenly Bob stiffened. 

“Ah! Here we have it!” he cried exultantly. 
“ A nice new line of concrete block-houses, Benton, 

125 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


right behind the village—their second line of de¬ 
fense. Fly a little lower, can’t you? ” 

“ No,” called back the pilot with his usual calm¬ 
ness, “ but we’ll go a bit further north, so you can 
find out the extent of the line. Those gunners 
don’t seem very clever yet, but they’re getting 
closer.” 

Bob sketched for dear life while the machine 
floated and hovered. Below in a narrow strip of 
woodland beyond the village he could distinguish 
plainly the tiny bald spots that marked the hastily 
constructed fortifications. 

“ Good, we’re losing them,” remarked Benton, 
glancing down. “ The clouds have hidden us, I 
think.” 

Below them a swirling fog bank sheltered the air¬ 
plane a moment from the gunners, but it also began 
to cut off Bob’s view, and Benton had to dodge and 
circle for openings in the misty curtain. 

“ Why, we’re above the village—there are the 
trenches,” said Bob presently. “ Cut back south— 
it’s clearer now. Blessed if we haven’t got the best 
bit of information this month,” he added joyfully. 
“ Can’t get everything in one trip, but this is enough 
to help if the Boches retreat this week, and it looks 
to every one as though they meant to.” 

Bob’s enthusiastic fingers pressed too hard and 
the lead of his pencil snapped. He felt in his pocket 
126 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


for another, thinking oddly of Lucy as he did so, 
for she had always come to him when he was at home 
to sharpen her pencils. It usually took Lucy sev¬ 
eral pencils to get through an arithmetic lesson. 
He rubbed his bare hand against the pocket lining, 
for the air was nipping cold. 

“ Huh! ” said Benton suddenly. 

Bob could not hear him, but he felt the airplane 
sharply veer. He seized the speaking tube and 
shouted, “ What’s the matter? ” 

For a second he thought Benton had been hit, for 
shrapnel was again bursting near them at intervals, 
and he glanced quickly toward the steering gear. 
By means of the dual control the observer, in case 
of accident to the pilot, can bring the airplane safely 
to ground. 

“ Don’t know,” said Benton sharply, “ but we’re 
not getting enough gas. You pick out a landing- 
place for us in double-quick time, if you don’t want 
to land in those tree-tops.” His cool voice was 
shaken with furious disgust—the steady, swift race 
of the engine had grown jerky and uneven. 

Bob heard it and understood. With frenzied 
haste he searched the landscape with his glasses, 
growing suddenly cold beneath his clothes at 
thought of the dizzy depth below. 

“ There’s a meadow just to the left,” he said at 
last, “north of the village—see it? It’s the only 
127 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


decent place in sight—but, Benton—it’s behind the 
German lines.” 

“ Don’t I know it? ” said Benton gruffly. “ Then 
here goes.” He cut off the spark, and the airplane 
began to fall. 

Bob had snatched his map from the board and 
folded it closely. He drew now from a box at his 
feet a pearly white carrier pigeon and, fastening 
the map to her leg by a rubber band, stroked her 
once and tossed her high in the air. No matter 
what happened to them his morning’s observations 
would safely reach the squadron’s camp. 

They were barely four hundred feet above the 
earth now, and the continued firing of the German 
guns behind them seemed to indicate that in the 
misty atmosphere the enemy had not seen their 
descent and was still searching for them in the 
heights. v 

“ All right, pretty good place—down we go,” 
said Benton, peering out ahead. In another mo¬ 
ment the machine touched the grass of the meadow 
and coasted along it to the shelter of a little grove 
of firs near the farther end. 

“ Somewhere in France,” remarked Benton 
grimly, taking off his goggles and staring around 
him, “ Only it begins to look more like somewhere 
in Germany.” 

“There’s nobody in sight,” said Bob, stepping 
128 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


out on to the grass. “ I should think we were sev¬ 
eral miles north of the village.” 

“ Not more than two,” declared Benton, taking 
off his gloves and turning up the ear flaps of his 
helmet preparatory to bending over the engine. 
He took another swift glance around, frowning. 
“ They may have seen us come down and they may 
not, but we’ll have to take it for granted that they 
didn’t, and do our work with that idea. If the 
trouble is in the feed pipe, as I think it is, we ought 
to make repairs in an hour or two. It isn’t but ten 
o’clock now.” He looked up at the sun, which was 
dimly visible through the heavy clouds. “ If it will 
only stay thick and hazy we’ll have a fair chance of 
escaping notice in case any one happens along in 
this field.” 

“ There’s a house behind those trees,” said Bob 
doubtfully, nodding toward the woods on their 
right. “ It looks like a farmer’s cottage. You 
can’t see it now, but I caught sight of the chimney 
while we were making our landing.” 

“ Well, it can’t be helped,” said Benton coolly. 
“ Our only chance is to fix up and get away before 
they see us.” 

He had his tools out and was ready to engross 
himself in the task before him. Not for nothing 
had this famous pilot been brought up on a Wy¬ 
oming cattle ranch, where calm thought and quick 
129 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


action had saved his life more than once in his boy¬ 
hood. With a strong probability of never finishing 
his repairs he set to work with as matter-of-fact 
thoroughness as though he were in his own air¬ 
drome. 

“ Come on, Gordon—unscrew these unions for 
me,” he ordered, tossing a tool in Bob’s direction. 

Bob was feeling, to say the least of it, rather ex¬ 
cited. During his three months of service abroad 
he had not yet come face to face with a German 
soldier otherwise than disarmed and a prisoner. 
He had encountered plenty of shell and rifle fire 
in his flights over the enemy trenches, but that was 
his nearest approach to the battle-field. Now, as 
he peered around the meadow, over which the mist 
still lingered, he half expected to see a crowd of 
armed Prussians bursting at him from among the 
trees, and his heart beat a most unhero-like tattoo as 
he turned to the airplane and began unscrewing 
with nervous haste. 

In half an hour Benton had found the trouble and 
set about remedying it as best he could, but he 
growled now over his work, and searched his box of 
spare parts dejectedly. “ It will just do,” he told 
Bob as they toiled on with all the speed allowable 
for a good job. “ It ought to get us back to camp 
safe enough, but unfortunately we can’t fly like the 
crow—not by daylight.” 

130 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ How clo you mean? ” asked Bob, straightening 
his bent back a moment. He was beginning to feel 
more hopeful, for the work was nearly done, even 
if not altogether satisfactory, and they were still 
quite unmolested. 

“ I mean that we can’t start now, as I’d like to, 
and fly back to camp. They’re on the lookout for 
us, you may be sure. We’d have to dodge and cut 
around their guns, and you see we can’t. I wouldn’t 
risk a single loop with that engine, though for just 
the straight distance we can chance it. What I 
mean is this—we’ve got to wait for darkness, or 
near it, and then cut back directly over the 
trenches.” 

“ I see,” said Bob, with marked lack of en¬ 
thusiasm. 

Benton grinned. “ Doesn’t sound very promis¬ 
ing to you, does it? Cheer up; if only we can hide 
here until dark we’ll get home safe enough. When 
this job is done we’ll push her further in under the 
trees. The place seems to be quite deserted. 
Probably the cow that was pastured here has gone 
into German stomachs long ago.” 

Bob nodded agreement, since showing his doubts 
of their safety would not help matters. He guessed, 
too, that Benton knew them as well as he. In an¬ 
other hour the engine was repaired to the best of 
their ability, the airplane pushed under a sheltering 

131 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


fir, and Benton seated on the ground beside it, 
lighting his pipe. 

Bob sat down, too, and wiped the oil from his 
hands with a wisp of grass. He felt a sudden keen 
longing for action to put out of his mind the long 
hours they must spend in hiding, with the expecta¬ 
tion every moment of being surprised. He was not 
blessed with Benton’s calm patience. To be in the 
thick of a fight or engaged on a hazardous piece 
of work was something he could tackle bravely, 
but waiting for the unknown was getting on his 
nerves. 

“ Benton, I want to take a look around,” he said, 
rising to his feet after a moment. “ I’ll keep among 
the trees right near you.” 

“Well, if you must,” Benton acquiesced. “ Don’t 
go far. I suppose if the Boches are looking for us 
they’ll find us just the same, hiding or not.” 

“ I won’t be gone half an hour,” promised Bob, 
edging his way among the tree-trunks, his face 
turned toward the north end of the meadow. 

The mist still hung about the woodland, and the 
bark of the trees he touched was wet and clammy. 
He walked on for about five hundred yards, then 
stopped to listen. Distant firing was the only 
sound that broke the silence except for the occa¬ 
sional drip of water from the bare branches of the 
oaks or the green boughs of the fir trees. 

132 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


He went on a little further, then stopped again, 
irresolute. There was nothing to be gained by 
wandering further, and he might lose his way if 
the mist closed in again. He certainly could not 
risk having to shout to Benton for guidance. But 
he thought disgustedly of the feeble ending to their 
morning’s expedition, with the best to be hoped for 
a scared retreat to camp after nightfall. The map 
was safely there by now, but Bob would have given 
almost anything at that moment to be able to add to 
the information it contained by some discovery near 
at hand. The attack of nerves he had suffered after 
their landing had cleared his mind of its weakness, 
and now his heart was beating normally and his 
courage was good. Bob was far from having an 
envious nature, but his admiration for Benton’s ex¬ 
ploits had kindled his own ambition, and the chance 
nearness to the German second-line positions made 
him fairly ache with longing to do his corps some 
brilliant service. Yet rack his brains as he might 
he could not discover any way toward the accom¬ 
plishment of his desire. While he stood wishing, a 
footstep sounded close beside him. 

Bob stopped breathing, frozen to the spot. Then 
he began slowly backing away, but the unknown’s 
feet had passed from the soft moss to a crackling 
stick very near at hand and only a shaggy fir tree 
separated him from Bob’s view. 

133 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


Bob was keyed up at that moment to expect no 
less than Von Hindenburg himself, and the relief 
was almost overwhelming when a little old man in 
a blue peasant’s blouse stepped into sight, carrying 
a pail of water. He nearly dropped it when he 
came face to face with Bob, and stopped mouth open 
and eyes staring. Bob was almost as much over¬ 
come himself at the encounter with even this sim¬ 
ple old countryman, and it was the latter who 
brought his pail carefully to the ground and first 
spoke. 

“Anglais?” he asked, his voice quavering with 
astonishment, and his eyes wandering all over 
Bob as though puzzled beyond words at his 
presence. 

Bob shook his head, regaining his composure a 
little, “ Americain” 

“ Ah! ” cried the little Frenchman, his face light- 
ing up in answer to the word, “Americain !" Then 
in a sudden burst of joyful enthusiasm he cried 
with a smile that brought out a hundred wrinkles in 
his thin old face, “ Soyez le bienvenu! ” 

“ Merci !" responded Bob, warming to the 
friendly greeting, and he held out his hand to the 
old man, who shook it timidly. Then he burst into 
a sudden volley of words, gesticulating wildly with 
his arms as he spoke and, so far as Bob could under¬ 
stand, inquiring how on earth he had got there, 
134 



Iff / " m 

llf | 

If i L m: 

'* ''Will 


( < 


y y 


YOU MAY HELP THE ALLIES TO VICTORY 








AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


since evidently the Germans still held their posi¬ 
tions firmly. 

Bob heartily wished he had taken his West Point 
French more seriously as he strained his ears, un¬ 
used to any such fluency. But he summoned his 
wits and managed to understand somehow and to 
answer at least intelligibly. 

“ I and my fellow-officer were forced to come 
down behind the German lines,” he explained. 
“ We are hiding until dark, when we can get away.” 
As he struggled with his French Bob felt uneasy 
enough at having revealed himself, though looking 
at the peasant’s honest open face beaming with 
friendliness he could not feel that he had exposed 
himself and Benton to any imminent danger of 
betrayal. But while he talked another thought 
occurred to him. 

“ Have you seen the new forts beyond the vil¬ 
lage? ” he asked. “ Will you tell me how far they 
go? Perhaps you may help the Allies to victory.” 

The old man scratched his cheek thoughtfully and 
finally shook his head. “ I can tell only what I 
have guessed, Monsieur, for I do not go near the 
fortifications, nor even to the village, often. I feel 
safer here,” he added, nodding his head toward the 
cottage that Bob had noticed buried in the trees. 
“ It is almost a ruin now,” he said sadly, “ but the 
Boches seldom come there.” 

i35 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


“Well, what have you guessed?” urged Bob 
eagerly. 

“ That the forts run far above the town. They 
have set guards all through the woods to the north 
to keep the townfolk from wandering there. Be¬ 
yond that,” he shrugged his old shoulders deject¬ 
edly, “ I do not know.” 

Bob’s brain began to seethe with a sudden deter¬ 
mination. Before he had stopped to think whether 
it had wisdom in it—and not having Lucy on hand 
to urge caution—he said impulsively: 

“ I want to see them if I can. Could you—will 
you lend me those clothes you wear while I go 
quickly into the village and return? I will pay 
you well for them.” As he spoke he drew from the 
pocket inside his coat some pieces of silver. 

The old peasant stared again, then his blue eyes 
softened. “ I will lend them to you gladly,” he 
said, drawing back from the offering with a friendly 
smile. 

“ I know,” urged Bob, following him, “ but I 
have money and you have none. Take this for 
friendship’s sake, at least,” he said, as nearly as his 
French could frame the words. 

The old man hesitated no longer, but took the 
money with a grateful look and a sigh of wonder 
at the few franc pieces in his hand. 

“ Many thanks, Monsieur l’Americain,” he 
136 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


nodded. “ Will you wait here until I bring the 
clothes, or will you come with me to my house? ” 
Bob thought swiftly of Benton, with whom he 
must certainly have a word before he started out 
on what the older man would be likely to call a 
wild goose chase. Again he felt the risk of so 
implicitly trusting a simple old fellow who might 
presumably be frightened into a betrayal, but his 
confidence somehow remained unshaken. The man 
must not be led into his danger either. He thought 
hard. 

“ I’ll meet you near your house, so you need not 
come back so far. Can you think of a place? ” 

“ Yes,” said the old man after a moment; “ my 
little shed where I cut wood is at the edge of the 
thicket. You have only to walk on a quarter of a 
mile from here to come to it.” 

“ But how about the Boches? Could they not 
see me? ” 

“ No—no. There are none near here. They 
have little reason for coming. You are safe 
enough. But,” he added, a sudden alarm spring¬ 
ing into his mild eyes, “ when you put on these 
clothes,” he touched his faded blouse, “ you are a 
spy, Monsieur. Have you forgotten that? ” 

“ No,” said Bob calmly, although to tell the truth 
he disliked to hear the word. “ I’ll risk that. No 
one knows me here. Say in a quarter of an hour, 
*37 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


then, I’ll meet you at your wood-shed.” He 
smiled good-bye to the little figure stooping again 
over the pail, and turned back through the trees 
with a great excitement quickening his pulses, 
though his determination had been so calmly taken. 

Benton was still sitting beside his airplane, only 
now he leaned forward in an attitude of expectancy 
when Bob’s cautious footstep sounded in the wood. 
At sight of him he settled back again, inquiring 
with mild mockery, “ Well, did you persuade the 
Germans to confide anything to you? Wish you’d 
ask them where that new road is they’ve camou¬ 
flaged out of sight. Tell ’em we’ve spent a week 
looking for it.” 

“ Didn’t see any,” said Bob, refusing to be 
teased. “ Look here, Benton, what I did see was 
a French peasant who was no end friendly, and 
whose clothes I borrowed to go on a little tour of 
inspection in the village.” 

“ What! In the village—in the fellow’s clothes? ” 
exclaimed Benton, staring. “ You must be just 
plain ass, Gordon.” 

Bob laughed. “ No, I’m not. Would you think 
so if I learned what we want to know about the 
block-houses before it’s dark enough to start? All 
this worry and danger would have amounted to 
something then. I sure want to find out a little of 
their scheme.” 


138 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Benton frowned at the big tree in front of him. 
“ You know what you’ll get if you are caught—out 
of uniform? ” 

“ But I’m not exactly well-known in that vil¬ 
lage. I’m no familiar figure like yourself. There 
haven’t been any pictures of me in the papers. 
Besides, I won’t be gone more than an hour or two. 
I can’t see any great risk in it, and, Benton, think 
of what I may learn! ” 

“ I know it, and I wouldn’t thank any man who 
kept me from doing a smart bit of work. But look 
here, even if you are not suspected you might be 
detained as being of military age. How would 
you like to be sent into Germany as a factory 
hand?” 

“ I can easily pass for seventeen—the class 
France had not called out when Petit-Bois was 
taken. There are lots of those fellows around, and 
it isn’t likely they’d choose me to kidnap during a 
single hour.” 

“ Well, go ahead, Gordon, but not with my ap¬ 
proval. It’s a nasty business.” 

“ I feel sure I’ll come out all right,” said Bob, a 
courageous confidence growing in him as he spoke. 
“ Just wish me luck and I’ll bet we’ll meet again 
before it’s time to go.” 

“ I wish you the best of luck, old man,” said Ben¬ 
ton, rising to his feet and shaking Bob warmly by 
139 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


the hand. “I’ll wait for you until dark. I can’t 
stay longer.” 

“ That’s long enough,” said Bob, and with a final 
hand-clasp he retraced his venturesome steps into 
the wood. 


140 


CHAPTER IX 

BEHIND THE ENEMY’S LINES 

In the village of Petit-Rois, on the street leading 
to the church, lived a grocer named Adler, a Ger¬ 
man by birth, who had plied his trade there for 
almost ten years before the war forced him to leave 
French territory. He was not kept away for long, 
however, for within a few weeks his countrymen 
had overrun Belgium and enough of northern 
France to include Petit-Bois, so Herr Adler came 
back and resumed business, with more Germans 
than French now for customers. He was a wid¬ 
ower and lived alone until his uncle and aunt had 
come to Petit-Bois a month ago to keep him com¬ 
pany. The grocery had become prosperous of 
late, since the victorious army had trebled the 
population of the village, and the grocer was glad 
of help in the time his uncle could spare from his 
work as company cook in an Infantry regiment. 
He was pleased also at having for lodger a relative 
in the army. Adler’s aunt sat mostly in her room 
over the grocery knitting socks, except when she 
was called to wait upon customers in the shop. 

141 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


She was seated there now in the early winter 
afternoon, the needles moving swiftly in her nimble 
fingers, though her eyes were not on her work but 
turned toward the window through which bare 
branches showed, and low, red roofs beneath the 
sullen, cloudy sky. Elizabeth was paler and 
thinner than she had been when the Gordons last 
saw her, and her face was serious and sad as she 
looked off into the distance. It was not her 
journeyings since leaving America that had wearied 
her—the journey into Mexico, the long sea voyage 
from Santa Cruz to Copenhagen, and again the 
tedious way from Denmark into Germany. It was 
the weeks passed in her native land which had done 
most to sadden her cheerful spirit. 

The month she had spent in Germany had been 
strangely hard, and lately she had stayed more and 
more at work by herself, absorbed in perplexing and 
anxious thoughts. The grief and suffering she 
saw daily about her, without power to alleviate it, 
hurt her kind heart, and the great war seemed 
further than ever from her simple understanding. 
She saw Karl filling once more a humble place in 
Germany’s mighty army, with a steadily growing 
pride in the victorious onslaught of which he had 
become a part. She heard the name of Germany 
and of German conquest on every tongue, or saw 
a silent witness of it in the vanquished people 
142 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

around her, and still her heart did not feel that 
overpowering thrill at her country’s greatness that 
in Karl had been so quickly awakened. Elizabeth 
went among the Germans of the village and spoke 
with them in her native tongue. She worked will¬ 
ingly at warm garments for the soldiers and helped 
her nephew at every opportunity, but with a quiet 
sadness and reserve that any one who had known 
the old Elizabeth would have quickly wondered 
at. 

The neighbors often asked her about her life in 
America, usually with bitter words and marveling 
at her safe return. 

“ How fortunate you were, Frau Muller, to get 
off so easily! I suppose our poor countrymen are 
suffering much at the hands of the Yankees now. 
Did you contrive long for your escape?” 

Elizabeth had smiled the first time such questions 
were put to her, and had told frankly of the free¬ 
dom with which she and Karl had left America. 
But later she did not go into such details, for she 
saw that she was not fully believed and that, more¬ 
over, her story lost interest since it contained no 
accusations against America. 

She had heard before in Germany words of sus¬ 
picion and dislike expressed against England, and 
she had not been familiar enough with England or 
English peoj)le to resent or disbelieve them. But 
143 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


she had spent a good part of the last twenty years 
in America, and had known too much happiness 
and kind companionship there to feel indifferent 
when malicious lies were told about its people. She 
had lived, too, much of that time, in the army, and 
knew enough of its officers and soldiers and their 
families not to be deceived into believing them 
greedy, money-mad or bloodthirsty, according to 
the imagination of her informer. 

This sort of stupid abuse made Elizabeth acutely 
unhappy, and hurt her confidence in her native 
land, for which she had long had the tenderest 
affection. So rather than engage in arguments 
with strangers she remained alone a good part of 
the time and worked peacefully at her sewing and 
knitting, hoping, with as much cheerfulness as she 
could summon, for better days to come. 

She was pondering again over these troubling 
thoughts as she sat by the window, deeply wishing 
that she could go back to her native town in Ba¬ 
varia and talk to the old pastor she had known in 
her youth. ITe had never outgrown for her the 
wisdom she had seen in him when he had married 
her to Karl, with much kind and shrewd advice for 
both of them. She smiled at the thought of it as 
she bent over the heel of her sock. Suddenly heavy 
footsteps sounded on the stairs and the door was 
opened. Elizabeth looked up in surprise. 

144 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

“ Is it you, Karl, home so early? ” she asked as 
her husband came quickly in and crossed the room 
to her side. 

He wore the German private’s gray uniform as 
cook to an Infantry company, and his rather stout 
figure had trimmed down wonderfully since he put 
it on. He looked almost young and soldierly. 
But his face just now was red and hot, and his 
black eyes blazed with excitement. 

“ Whom do you think I have seen? ” he shouted, 
pointing a shaking finger at his wife as though to 
assure her earnest attention. “ I have seen a spy 
from the American army across there with the 
French, and whom do you think it was? It was 
Bob Gordon!” 

Elizabeth turned deathly pale. Her knitting 
slipped unnoticed from her hands and she stared 
at Karl speechlessly until he shook her by the 
shoulder, crying: 

“Come! Don’t be so stupid! I want that 
picture 3 r ou have of him. Where is it? I must 
show it to my captain, so he will be convinced it 
is the right man when we have taken him. He 
was wandering about the border of the village, just 
entering it. He has got across the lines somehow, 
in a farmer’s old clothes. Pretty smart! But not 
so smart that I didn’t recognize him—our fine 
young officer! He won’t get back so easily, for I 
145 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

have sent warnings to all the pickets beyond the 
wood.” 

Karl was fairly quivering with eagerness. He 
saw glory awaiting him around the corner—the 
precious words of praise from his superior, the 
possible decoration, which are life itself to the 
zealous German soldier, and which he puts before 
every impulse of humanity or independence. 

“ Hurry! ” he urged angrily, astonished at Eliza¬ 
beth’s white-faced silence. “ I want to take him on 
the road by the fortifications. Think what it means 
to us who were half accused of being friendly to 
America! Could there be better proof than this 
of our loyalty? ” 

Elizabeth’s pale lips could hardly form the words 
she tried to utter. Her throat choked her, but 
desperately she strove against the horror that seized 
her and pleaded tremblingly, “ Oh, Karl, not a 
spy—not a spy! ” 

Karl frowned, staring at her with hard eyes, but 
she faltered, “You won’t give him up, Karl? 
Not Mr. Bob, our old friend! ” 

“ What else would I do? ” Karl demanded, 
thrusting out both arms in an excited gesture. 
“ Would you have me betray the Fatherland? ” 

Elizabeth found her tongue at last and rose to 
face her husband. Her thin face was flushed and 
her eyes shining. 


146 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

“ Karl, it is not only you who love Germany,” 
she said earnestly. “ I would not betray her to our 
enemies, but, Karl, you know well that there is 
nothing here for Mr. Bob to learn. Only the 
fortifications are secret, and he will never be allowed 
near them by the guard. You know they would 
shoot him before he reached them, as they shot that 
poor, deaf old man the other day. Tell him to go, 
Karl. Tell him never, on his word, to spy again, 
as the price of his safety. No, wait,” she 
begged, as Karl showed impatient signs of inter¬ 
rupting her. “ Do it for the debt we owe America. 
Have you forgotten the long, happy years we spent 
there? Often I think of my kind mistress and of 
Mr. Bob when he was a little child. Do you re¬ 
member the day long ago when he fell off his horse, 
how you picked him up and carried him in the 
house? You were pale that day yourself, and 
when he opened his eyes you said, 4 Thank God.’ 
You were very ill ten years ago, when the Major 
had you cared for like his friend and your life was 
saved. Don’t we owe them anything, Karl, that 
you are so ready to harm them? ” 

Karl’s brows had unbent a little as he listened 
to Elizabeth’s plea, and when he answered it was 
less arrogantly, though his voice was still hard and 
self-assured. 

“ Yes, wife, I know. But you reason stupidly. 

147 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


I cannot make you see beyond your finger-tips. 
Our service in America was good, and we were 
friends with the Major’s family. I served him 
faithfully. But now we are at war, and Germany’s 
enemies are ours. I am now a soldier and Mr. 
Bob is a soldier, too. That is an end to all talk 
of friendship. Keep your pity for our own people, 
and forget all gratitude to those who are against 
us. America and the sons of America are less 
than nothing to you now.” 

Karl’s face was set, and his eyes gleamed at 
thought of the praise and honor awaiting him with 
Bob’s capture. No persuasion on earth could have 
turned him aside from his purpose, and to his ex¬ 
cited mind it lost all trace of selfish ambition and 
became the loftiest patriotism. 

Elizabeth closed her lips despairingly and looked 
at him with sad eyes. But his forbearance was now 
quite at an end. 

“Give me the picture!” he cried, shaking her 
thin shoulder. “ Must I treat you roughly to get 
it? Where is your obedience? ” 

Elizabeth made no more protests. She walked 
with heavy steps to the old bureau and pulled open 
a drawer. From the depths of a worn leather 
pocketbook she drew out the little photograph and, 
without one glance at it, handed it to her husband. 

Karl snatched it eagerly from her hand, and 
148 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


looked at it closely, holding it to the light. He 
started to tear off the figures of Lucy and William, 
but reflecting that it would be better to show the 
picture unmutilated, he thrust it quickly inside his 
blouse and went out of the room. 

Elizabeth stood by the bureau motionless for a 
moment, then mechanically she straightened the 
crocheted cover where Karl had brushed against 
it. She had crocheted it herself two years ago at 
Governor’s Island, while Lucy was recovering 
from the measles, sitting beside her in the darkened 
room. She went slowly over to the window, staring 
out unseeingly. In her painful bewilderment she 
prayed for help and guidance to know what she 
should do, and as her lips moved she felt her mind 
made up beyond any faltering. 

She turned to the wall where a woolen shawl 
hung, and, hesitating no longer, took it down and 
wrapped it about her head and shoulders. Her 
face was calm and quiet now with the strength of 
her resolution. She descended to the shop and 
found Herr Adler seated there, casting up his 
accounts, for it was Saturday afternoon. 

“ Good-day, Aunt,” he nodded, raising his blond 
head at sight of her. “.Will you stay here for a 
while and attend to the customers while I do my 
figuring? My uncle has gone off somewhere in a 
great hurry.” 


149 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


“ First I must go out and see Frau Bauer,” said 
Elizabeth, smiling pleasantly at her nephew. “ I 
promised to come before the week is out. In half 
an hour I will be back and help you gladly.” She 
replaced a few potatoes which had fallen from the 
basket and walked out into the street. Once outside 
she quickened her pace a little and turned off 
in the direction of the fortified road behind the 
village. 

* #• # *■ * * * 

Bob had lingered in the woods a while after put¬ 
ting on the peasant’s clothes, trying to feel at home 
in them before he showed himself in the village. 
But the disguise was complete enough to any one 
unfamiliar with his face, and sure to escape notice 
by its very commonplaceness. 

“ If they see that you are a stranger they will 
take you for a marketer from the countryside,” the 
old Frenchman had assured him. “ They come 
from a day’s journey off now, because the land is 
untilled beneath the shell-fire, north and south 
of us.” 

Bob entered Petit-Bois about noon, skirting the 
edge of it until he could get enough idea of its 
streets to seem passably familiar with the ones lead¬ 
ing to the farther end of the village. His cap was 
pulled down over his eyes, and his clumsy shoes 
150 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

no longer impeded his steps as they had done at 
first. Pie bent his shoulders forward too, with a 
suggestion of physical unfitness. 

Thrusting his hands into his pockets he walked 
along at a good rate on a pretty, tree-bordered 
street, until he reached the center of the village with 
its shops and red-roofed houses, one or two of them 
damaged by shell-fire, beyond which the little, 
spired church showed against the gray sky. Not 
many people were on the streets and the few were 
mostly German soldiers off duty, wearing an air 
of self-importance which contrasted strongly with 
the hasty and anxious looks of the French women, 
children and occasional men who went about such 
business as they had. What might have marked 
Bob out for notice was his fresh color and the clear 
eyes shaded beneath his cap, for terror and priva¬ 
tion'had taken the healthy bloom from the French 
country-folk, and even the children wore a serious, 
apprehensive look as they hurried by, wrapped in 
their scanty shawls against the biting air. 

Bob did not linger, having no desire to remain 
in a crowd, and possessed by one idea—to see all 
he could and get away as soon as possible. He went 
on up the street, passed the church, and turning into 
a lane found himself presently at the eastern end 
of the village. Along its outskirts a road ran at 
right angles to the principal street, and as Bob 

151 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


reached it he saw, to his discomfort, a German 
sentry walking guard. Beyond the little grove of 
oaks just back of the road Bob’s fancy pictured 
with eager certainty one of the concrete block¬ 
houses, or machine-gun emplacements that formed 
the projected second line of defense. He stepped 
out on to the road and immediately received a 
threatening gesture of the sentry’s bayonet, elo¬ 
quent enough, though the man was some distance 
from him, accomjDanied by a thumb pointed vigor¬ 
ously back in the direction of the village. Bob 
turned unwillingly into the lane again, frowning at 
the oak grove before he strolled slowly away from it. 

“ Fine chance I have of seeing anything,” he 
thought, fuming, as he shuffled along. “ I don’t 
make a very dangerous spy.” 

He returned to the church, found a second by¬ 
way and made for another part of the forbidden 
road. This way was not so deserted as the lane 
he had left, and as he passed a dozen people he 
quickened his pace a little, thinking his idle wander¬ 
ing might look suspicious. He was the less con¬ 
spicuous, though, as many of the villagers were 
wandering about themselves with little object. 
Their livelihood gone, their hearts wrung with grief 
or anxiety, they seemed to have little purpose in 
their actions, and those who met Bob’s eyes looked 
at him with dull indifference, or at most with a mild 
152 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

curiosity. The German soldiers left them un¬ 
molested, so far as Bob could see. Even the most 
brutal, he guessed, had seen enough of abusing an 
unarmed and helpless population. Once an officer 
passed quickly by, having the whole road to himself 
by unanimous consent of the other pedestrians. He 
was a tall, powerful-looking man, a captain, as 
Bob saw by a glance at his shoulder. It went 
severely against the grain to salute him, but Bob 
could not risk being brought into notice by a repri¬ 
mand and he raised his hand briskly with the others. 
The officer did not condescend to return the salute, 
but his eyes passed over Bob’s shabby figure in¬ 
differently, which was all Bob wanted. 

As he neared the road again he peered across it as 
well as he could before coming under the sentry’s 
gaze, and to his delight he saw plainly a square, 
white spot rising slightly from the ground in the 
moss among the tree-trunks. He hastily calculated 
the distance between this lane and the other and 
decided that the block-houses were at least a hun¬ 
dred yards apart. His sketches made from the 
airplane were fairly accurate, and would be of great 
service when the looked-for retreat commenced from 
the hard-pressed German lines before the village. 
He was consumed with a desire to get nearer the 
road, but the few houses along the lane had already 
ended, and it was empty except for himself. He 
153 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


felt that it would be going too far to show himself 
again to the sentry appearing from a second de¬ 
serted road. To the left he heard the sound of 
drums and caught sight of a big farmhouse not far 
off, which, to judge from the crowd of soldiers 
gathering about its yard, had been turned into a 
barracks. 

It was, of course, something to have verified his 
observations of the morning, and he had a pretty 
good idea of what protection the houses of the vil¬ 
lage would afford an army defending the second 
line, but Bob was far from satisfied as he once more 
neared the church. He glanced up at the spire, 
wondering if by hook or by crook, or by any of those 
marvelous schemes that seem easy enough when you 
read about them, he could get up inside the belfry 
and use the glasses carefully hidden under his blouse. 
While he gazed up, blinking at the mist-covered 
sun, a hand laid quickly on his arm made him jump 
in spite of all his self-control. He turned, expect¬ 
ing he knew not what, to see a thin, little woman 
with a shawl drawn like a hood over her face. 

A house close by them had been partly shattered 
by shell-fire, and a gaping hole still showed in the 
wall. “ Come in here,” she whispered, and drew 
Bob inside the wrecked door out of sight of 
passers-by. 

“ Mr. Bob,” said Elizabeth, pushing back her 

154 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

shawl and showing her haggard, frightened face. 
“ Oh, Mr. Bob, why did you come here? Go 
quickly away, I beg you—for your mother’s sake! ” 

“ Elizabeth! ” said Bob, staring unbelievingly at 
the troubled face before him. Then as the shock 
of her recognition of him outweighed his curiosity 
he asked, bewildered, “ Who knows I am here? 
Have you told any one? ” 

“ Karl saw you,” said Elizabeth, wringing her 
hands in her helpless terror. “ He will give you 
up, Mr. Bob, but I could not stay and nothing do 
after he told me. Your mother’s eyes came sor¬ 
rowfully before me, and I must help you if I can. 
But, oh, Mr. Bob, if without your uniform they 
take you! Get back while yet there is time, if some 
way you know! ” 

“ Karl—here? What a chance! ” Bob muttered, 
his brain on fire now with the impulse of his desper¬ 
ate need. 

“ It is not chance, Mr. Bob,” said Elizabeth 
heavily. “ His regiment was here sent when the 
Americans joined the French across the line. Karl 
could choose this or one other regiment, but here 
he came because my nephew asked him. You will 
believe me? ” Her face was beseeching in its tear¬ 
ful earnestness, lest Bob should not take her warn¬ 
ing with instant seriousness. 

“ Oh, I believe you, Elizabeth—it isn’t that! ” 
155 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


Bob assured her, darting a glance into the street'. 
“ Thank you a thousand times,” he stammered, 
clasping her hands with more fervent gratitude than 
his hurried words could speak. “ Good-bye! ” 

Elizabeth held him back for an instant. “ Oh, 
Mr. Bob, nothing try against the German army! ” 
she entreated. “ They are too strong. Now go, 
and God go with you.” 

The street was almost empty. Bob reached it 
unnoticed and crossed swiftly to the lane from 
which he had caught a glimpse of the German bar¬ 
racks a quarter of an hour before. He had 
observed that it ran through the length of the vil¬ 
lage obliquely parallel with the principal street. 
At a guess it should come out nearer by half a mile 
to the north end of the meadow than the way by 
which he had entered. He began walking down it 
swiftly, but fear urged him on until his feet would 
no longer keep the ground. He darted furtive 
looks around him and saw no passers-by. The 
scattered houses were closed, too, against the raw, 
misty air. He broke into a gentle run and 
reached the village outskirts in ten minutes. Where 
the lane ended the meadows began, and for a mo¬ 
ment Bob paused, uncertain, looking about him at 
the brown fields and the trees with sombre, bare 
branches against the gloomy sky. The woods 
stretched beyond, and to these Bob raised his eyes 
156 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

and saw a splotch of green among the winter bare¬ 
ness. It was the little wood of firs among which 
Benton lay hid. Bob sprang forward and crossing 
the first field at a leisurely walk, in case curious 
eyes were at any of the windows behind him, he 
descended a little knoll and then, stretching his 
long legs, broke into a run that would have won 
him trophies on any athletic field. 

For a mile and a half he ran on, over fields and 
through thickets, steering wide from any signs of 
habitation, until his breath began to fail and his 
legs to ache and stumble. But on he went, until 
the woods closed in and, close at hand, he saw the 
little thatched shed whose safe haven meant more 
than anything in the world to him just then—refuge 
from certain death. 

He darted in the narrow doorway and dropped, 
gasping, on the earthy floor. But only for a. mo¬ 
ment. The next he was tearing off the shabby, old 
garments he wore and searching in the dim corner 
for his precious discarded uniform. Five minutes 
later—never did he think he could have dressed so 
quickly—he stood up, once more an American 
officer. 

Discovery he felt to be inevitable, for Karl must 
have been hot upon his trail when Elizabeth warned 
him—and he was barely half a mile from Benton’s 
hiding-place. The search would be complete, but 
i57 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

by getting further off he would lessen the chance 
of giving away his comrade with him, and making 
him the victim of his own rashness. He went out, 
stepping cautiously, and seeing all clear, walked 
quickly into the woods toward the German line. 
He had got no further in his plan than this—to be 
taken far off to the right, beyond the grove of firs. 
But as he walked wearily on, he tried vainly to 
think of some way out, some place of concealment 
that German sagacity could not fathom. He 
thought vaguely, too, of home, and wished that he 
were back there. The words of an old song came 
into his mind: 

“ Do they miss me at home, do they miss me, 

'When the shadows darkly fall? ” 

He shook his head, trying hard to think to some 
purpose. The sound of the guns was nearer now, 
and the detonations distracted him as he tried to 
locate them. He thought he was within five miles 
of the German trenches. He listened intently, 
trying to find his direction, when crackle—crash! 
sounded the breaking twigs and brushwood back 
of him. He wheeled around and met the barrel of 
a German rifle with a stocky infantryman behind it. 

Bob felt almost calm now that it had actually 
happened. He nodded to the soldier and, at a sharp 
signal, turned his back, raising his arms above his 
head. His pistol was jerked from his belt, his 

158 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


pockets quickly searched, then the soldier gave an 
order, motioning him to go on. He led the way, 
and the two soon emerged from the wood and began 
skirting the meadow. Bob had a part to play in 
the eyes of this silent and stolid Teuton. He rep¬ 
resented America, and she was going to be repre¬ 
sented worthily, whatever despondency and dread 
might in reality clutch at the heart of her son. 
About half a mile down the field an officer was 
seated on a rock with a little group of soldiers 
about him. Bob guessed that this was the main 
base of the searching party Karl had instituted. 

Karl was evidently taking part in the hunt, for 
he was not in sight, but as he drew nearer another 
figure brought Bob’s heart into his mouth. Almost 
a groan escaped him. Benton was a prisoner like 
himself, and lost, with all his matchless skill, to the 
American flying corps. 

Bob cast one remorseful look at him, which was 
returned by an undaunted nod and twinkle from 
the plucky Westerner, then the officer got up from 
the rock and strolled in Bob’s direction. As he 
inspected the insignia on Bob’s uniform he made a 
slight, stiff bow, which Bob returned. The Ger¬ 
man was a lieutenant like himself, a slender, fair 
man with keen, blue eyes and set lips. 

“ You are my prisoner, Lieutenant,” he said in 
good English. 


159 


CAPTAIN LUCr 


Bob made a sign of assent. 

“ You admit having come down by accident with 
Captain Benton this morning? ” 

“ Yes,” said Bob briefly. 

“ You were seen near the village and taken while 
walking in the woods. Did you expect to get away 
if nobody appeared to be in sight? ” 

“We hoped to get back across the lines after 
dark,” said Bob, wishing he could talk to Benton. 

“ You will be taken into the town for examina¬ 
tion directly. Have you any request to make? ” 

“ No, thank you,” said Bob. The officer turned 
away, and Bob was led by the guard to a place be¬ 
side the rock, where he sidled along in the course 
of a few minutes until he could mumble a word near 
Benton’s ear. The pilot spoke over his shoulder. 

“ Awfully sorry, Gordon, to have got you into 
this.” 

“ Why, it’s my fault,” said Bob. 

“ No, it isn’t. They saw us come down. They’ve 
been trying to locate our descent all day. They 
got me about an hour after you left, and before 
this search began. Don’t know what started 
that.” 

The guard pushed in between the two, shutting 
off any further communication, and the little group 
formed in double lines, the prisoners in the center, 
for the march to the village. 

160 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Bob caught sight of Karl now, standing a short 
way off in excited conversation with a non-com¬ 
missioned officer. He felt a sudden, unreasoning 
anger at sight of the familiar face and unfamiliar 
gray-uniformed figure of the man he had so long 
regarded as a harmless and friendly dependent. 
But recognizing the hard fortunes of war he turned 
his eyes resolutely away. 

Karl, indeed, was quite willing to keep out of 
Bob’s vicinity. Not all his pride and self-impor¬ 
tance could make him look forward to such a meet¬ 
ing with any enjoyment. Just now he was fully 
taken up by the argument with his superior. 

“ You say when you saw him at the outskirts of 
the village he was dressed in peasant’s clothes, 
Muller? ” inquired the Feldwebel or Sergeant, 
dubiously. “ The man is certainly in uniform now. 
The mist befogged your eyes. That muddy col¬ 
ored cloth they wear may look like anything at a 
distance.” The Sergeant was milder than he 
might ordinarily have been at Karl’s mistake be¬ 
cause he belonged to the company Karl cooked for, 
and had enjoyed better meals lately than for a 
year past. 

Karl hesitated, longing to insist, but not wishing 
to presume too far. He had won praise already 
for revealing the presence of another man after 
Benton was taken* 

161 


CAPTAIN LUCT 

“We searched the village from end to end at 
your direction,” the Sergeant continued. “ He was 
not in it, naturally, as he was in these woods. 
That’ll do, Muller. The squad is ready to move.” 

In an hour the two prisoners were in the house 
requisitioned in the village by the Regimental Com¬ 
mander. There they were separated. Bob was 
asked a few perfunctory questions by several officers 
in turn, relating to his rank, his corps, and his 
intention in making the morning’s flight. He 
managed to reply with enough vagueness to give 
no information, and they stopped short of questions 
which he must refuse to answer. Before long they 
withdrew and left him alone. He stood forlornly 
by the window, watching the winter twilight close 
in and lights spring up through the village, when 
the door opened, and, to his delight, Benton came 
toward him. 

“ I have only a minute,” he said quickly. “ They 
told me I could say good-bye, but to cut it short.” 

“ Good-bye? ” echoed Bob, feeling his heavy 
heart sink still lower. “ They aren’t going to 
separate us, Benton? ” 

“ Yes.” Benton frowned, all the bitter and 
helpless disappointment at his capture distorting 
for an instant his calm face. “ They are going to 
send me up to the Divisional Commander. Whether 
to present me with the Iron Cross or to show me 
162 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

to a firing squad I haven’t yet made out,” he mut¬ 
tered. “ But anyway you’re to be sent on alone, 
with some French prisoners taken yesterday.” 

“ Oh, Benton, that’s tough,” sighed Bob, his 
brave heart quailing for a moment at thought of 
the lonely captivity before him. 

Benton brought back a feeble smile at sight of 
Bob’s black depression. He held out a big hand. 
“ Cheer up! Things might be worse. Bob. Here’s 
hoping for the best.” 

Bob gave the friendly hand a warm clasp, and 
took a long, parting look into his comrade’s frank, 
honest face. He thought of the memorable days 
of work they had spent so companionably together, 
but more than all, as he let go Benton’s hand he 
seemed to sever the last link that bound him to 
freedom and America. Then Benton went out, 
and on his heels came a soldier, holding open the 
door for the fair-haired young officer, who said 
curtly: 

“ Follow me, Lieutenant. You will leave the 
village in half an hour.” 


163 


CHAPTER X 


A GUST OF WIND 

Winter came down very early this year on 
Governor’s Island, before the close of November. 
Autumn did not linger pleasantly as usual, and 
Lucy’s outdoor project, in which she was so sure 
she could interest Marian, had ended almost before 
it was begun. The two games of golf they had 
found time to play, before frost hardened the 
ground and the flags were taken in, did not awaken 
in Marian any great enthusiasm. 

Lucy lamented to Julia one day that they had 
begun the experiment so late in the season. 

“ I ought to have tried to make her do outdoor 
things while it was warmer,” she said regretfully. 
“ Then she wouldn’t have been willing to stop doing 
them. She hates cold weather and she isn’t used 
to it. Her father has always taken her away some¬ 
where for winter. Of course bowling is fun, but it 
isn’t out-of-doors.” 

Lucy and Julia and Anne Matthews liked to get 
strenuous exercise in the bowling-alley at the 
Officers’ Club, which they were allowed to use at 

164 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


certain hours while the officers were on duty. They 
were trying to teach Marian the game, and her few 
shots had not been bad, but for the most part she 
liked better to watch the others play, and was quite 
ready to set up the pins every time rather than make 
the effort needed to roll the ball. 

“ Exercise isn't everything, though, Lucy," Julia 
objected. “We aren’t trying to make a prize¬ 
fighter out of her. She’s a lot stronger than she 
was, except for getting tired so easily. What I 
think she needs is company.’’ 

“ That’s what I think,’’ agreed Lucy, warmly. 
“ She ought to go with a crowd of girls who would 
persuade her into doing as they did. But you 
haven’t any idea how hard it is to make her go out 
on these cold days, or take the trouble to go to 
see any one. I simply have to drag her out for 
the little walks we take, and you know how short 
they are. If I took her around the whole post I 
think we’d have to stop at the hospital. The other 
day I brought her in after a ‘ long walk ’—at least 
she was pretty tired—and we had walked so slowly 
I had to run around and around the house to warm 
up, after she had gone in." 

“She does poke along," said Julia laughing. 
“ But, Lucy, somehow I can’t help being interested 
in her, and wanting to get her well.” 

“ That’s just it," said Lucy quickly. “ I’m so 
165 


1 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


glad you feel that way too. No matter how mad 
and provoked she makes me, I like her and I like 
being with her. Now that she talks and feels at 
home with us I’m never dull with her. She can tell 
no end about queer things and places she’s seen, and 
whatever you talk about she’s sure to understand.” 

“ Anne Matthews likes her, I know,” said Julia 
thoughtfully. “ There’s certainly nothing slow 
about Marian when it comes to learning lessons. 
If she waked up as much to other things we’d have 
a hard time keeping up with her.” 

Lucy was thinking over this conversation on a 
cold, sunny afternoon a week before Thanksgiving, 
when the three girls had gone out on the sea-wall 
for their walk, to look at the deep blue water, which 
had already begun to form into thin ice along the 
base of the rocks. Marian loved the changing 
waves, with which two voyages across the ocean had 
made her very familiar, and the easiest way to coax 
her out-of-doors after school on blustery days was 
to suggest a glimpse at the white-capped breakers, 
where the new land lately added to the island had 
led the sea-wall far out into the bay. 

Marian was warmly dressed in a soft, fur- 
trimmed coat, with a blue, woolly cap pulled down 
over her ears. Her delicate cheeks were bright 
pink and her hair, tossed about by the keen wind, 
blew in gleaming curls across her face. She looked 
166 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


filled with health and good spirits as she laughed 
and pushed her hair out of the way, her bright, 
untroubled eyes roaming over the foamy, blue 
water. Lucy looked at her with critical admira¬ 
tion, deciding on another effort to help along her 
cousin’s growing willingness to take part in other 
girls’ pleasures. 

“ I have an idea, Julia and Marian,” she began, 
sure of Julia’s support. “ You know your mother, 
Julia, wants us to get as many girls as we can, 
to-morrow afternoon, to come to the Red Cross and 
finish up those clothes for the French orphans. 
What do you say to my inviting them all to our 
house afterward, to play games and have ice-cream? 
Margaret loves to make it and we wouldn’t have 
cake—just cookies or something. It might help to 
get the girls together.” 

“ It’s a fine idea,” said Julia, with a vigorous nod. 
“ There are about a dozen girls, I think, if you ask 
all on the post from sixteen down to twelve. What 
do you think of it, Marian? ” 

“ All right,” agreed Marian, mildly interested. 

“ I’ll make some oatmeal cookies for you, Lucy,” 
offered Julia. “ I love to make them.” 

“ Will you? Thanks! ” said Lucy, rubbing her 
red cheek with a wool-gloved hand. “ Suppose we 
go back now, before Marian gets frozen stiff and 
can’t be moved.” 


167 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


“ I’m nearly that already/’ remarked Marian, 
stamping her feet. “ We must have been out an 
hour by now, Lucy.” 

“ Oh, yes, almost. The wind will be behind 
us going this way, so you won’t mind it,” Lucy 
called back, leading the single file along the sea¬ 
wall. 

Once back from the exposed point of the island 
the wind died down, and as the girls left the sea¬ 
wall for the grass and neared the Infantry quarters 
on Brick Row, skirting the aviation field, Marian 
raised her chin from where it was snuggled down 
into her neck, and straightened her shoulders a 
little. 

“ Phew! What a cold place! ” she breathed. 

“ Bob said in the letter we got yesterday,” said 
Lucy, glancing toward the aviation sheds, “ that it 
was cold there, too, though the weather had been 
good otherwise. He said the poor French people 
were awfully hard up for clothes. That’s what 
made me wish to see if we can’t get more things 
done for them.” 

“ You don’t know just where he is, do you, 
Lucy? ” asked Julia. 

“ No, though Father thinks he can figure it out 
pretty well. He’s not far from the base head¬ 
quarters of our army.” 

“ He got our fruit-cake at last, anyhow,” said 
168 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Marian with satisfaction. “ I hate not knowing if 
things get there after you’ve sent them.” She still 
shivered a little, though the brisk walk across the 
parade had now quite warmed the others. 

“ There goes the postman into your house with a 
big package, Lucy,” said Julia as they crossed the 
grass from Colonel’s to General’s Row. 

“ Perhaps it’s the present your father is going 
to send you for Thanksgiving, Marian,” suggested 
Lucy. 

“ Maybe it is,” agreed Marian, quickening her 
steps a little as they neared the house. “ O-oh! ” 
she breathed, once safely inside the Gordons’ front 
door, “ isn’t it nice to be where it’s warm! ” 

“ Why, it’s not so very cold,” said Julia, laugh¬ 
ing. “You are a regular pussy-cat, Marian.” 

“ Except that she doesn’t like cream—Mother 
tries to make her,” remarked Lucy, examining the 
package the postman had left on the hall table. 
“ It is for you, Marian. Here you are! Come on 
up-stairs, Julia, while we take off our things, and 
we will see what’s inside. Can’t we, Marian? ” 

“ Of course,” said Marian, pulling off her warm 
cap with one hand and picking up her box. 

“ I wonder where Mother is. I want to ask her 
about the party.” 

“ Your mother went out with William, Miss 
Lucy,” answered Margaret, who was passing 
169 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

through the hall. “ She said she wouldn’t be gone 
long.” 

“ All right, thanks,” said Lucy, leading the way 
up to her room. 

Seated on Lucy’s bed Marian let her cousin untie 
all the knots in the string fastening her box, and 
only took a hand herself when it was time to raise 
the lid and lift out sheets of crinkly tissue-paper. 

“ It’s a dress,” cried Lucy, much more excited 
than the present’s owner. “ Oh, Marian, it’s too 
lovely! ” 

Mr. Leslie, who never found enough to do for 
his lonely little daughter, had telegraphed to a New 
York shop for the prettiest dress they had, suitable 
to a fourteen-year-old girl. Marian’s measure¬ 
ments were already on hand, and some clever per¬ 
son in the shop, where Marian was quite well 
known, had picked out the frock that met Lucy’s 
admiring eyes. It was a soft rose taffeta silk, with 
black velvet ribbon girdle and wide organdy collar, 
the skirt puffed out into countless little ruffles that 
caught the light with a silvery sheen. 

Even Marian was charmed. She lifted it out, 
smoothing the soft silk with her hand and wishing 
her father were near enough for her to thank him. 
“ It is pretty, isn’t it? ” she asked, to which Lucy 
and Julia gave an enthusiastic assent. 

“ Please try it on right now. Won’t you? ” 
170 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

begged Julia, beginning to unhook the dress Mar¬ 
ian wore, without further delay. 

“ Oh—well,” Marian agreed, holding up the new 
beauty and studying its fastenings. 

“ Now, slip this off and in you go,” said Julia, 
twitching off Marian’s school frock with one hand 
and putting the new dress over her head with the 
other. 

The two girls hooked and snapped and patted 
and poked with eager hands for a minute, until 
Marian stood revealed in all the rose-frilled loveli¬ 
ness, a little untidy about her hair, which was a 
picturesque heap since she pulled off her cap, but 
otherwise all that could be desired. There was no 
doubt that the rose dress was tremendously becom¬ 
ing. 

“ Only those tan shoes spoil it,” said artistic 
Julia, frowning at Marian’s feet. 

“ Here’s Mother! ” said Lucy, springing up from 
the floor as steps sounded on the stairs. “ Come in 
quick, Mother, and see Marian’s present.” 

Mrs. Gordon came, and added her praise to the 
chorus. “ What a perfectly lovely present, Mar¬ 
ian. I do think you have the best father! That 
dress fits you perfectly, too. Turn around and let 
me see the back.” 

“ Undo it, Cousin Sally, won’t you? I’d like to 
sit down and take a rest,” remarked Marian, tired 

171 


CAPTAIN LUCT 

of being exhibited. “ I’ll wear it on Thanksgiving 
Day.” 

“ I should think so,” sighed Lucy. “ That’s 
something to be thankful for.” 

Marian cast a glance of more affection than she 
usually bestowed on her clothes at the little dress, 
as Mrs. Gordon laid it carefully back in the box. 

“ Mother, we have something else to talk about,” 
said Lucy, as Mrs. Gordon took out her hat-pins 
and folded up her veil. “We want to get all the 
girls we can together, to-morrow afternoon, to work 
for Mrs. Houston, and afterward have them here 
to play games and give them ice-cream and cookies. 
How about it? ” 

“Why, yes, I think so,” agreed Mrs. Gordon 
thoughtfully. “ I don’t see why you shouldn’t. 
But the new maid I’ve engaged won’t be here, so if 
you invite all the girls near your age you had better 
go down to Sergeant Wyatt’s some time to-day and 
ask Rosie to come and help Margaret. There will 
be a good many to wait on.” 

“ I’m going to bring some cookies, Mrs. Gor¬ 
don,” put in Julia. “ I can make awfully good 
ones. The puppy found some of the last ones I 
made,” she added regretfully. 

“ I know they’re good, Julia, and that’s very kind 
of you. You really needn’t.” 

“ Oh, I’d like to, Mrs. Gordon. I simply must 
172 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

go now,” Julia declared, getting hastily up from 
her seat on the floor. 

“ I’ll come down with you,” said Lucy, rising 
too. “ I may as well go and speak to Rosie now,” 
she added, at the foot of the stairs. “ Just wait a 
second, Julia, till I get my coat.” 

Once outside Julia said good-night and started 
across the green, for Lucy’s way led to the left. 

“ Good-bye till to-morrow. I’ll telephone every 
one this evening,” Lucy called after her. 

Lucy found Rosie Wyatt willing enough to come 
and help. Rosie was a girl about Lucy’s own age, 
the Sergeant’s oldest daughter. She was always 
glad to earn a little money to help along her 
father’s big family, and with Mrs. Gordon’s in¬ 
struction was becoming a very good little waitress. 

When it came to telephoning the girls, Lucy 
managed to get fifteen, including herself and Mar¬ 
ian, and she obtained each one’s promise to go to 
the Red Cross next day to work from lunch time 
until half-past three. 

The following afternoon saw a string of girls 
entering the club in twos and threes, armed with 
thimble and scissors, until quite a little crowd was 
assembled at one end of the Red Cross room. 

“ This was a splendid idea of yours, Lucy,” said 
Mrs. Houston, looking with real satisfaction at the 
hands held out toward her for their share of sewing. 

173 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


“ These little dresses and wrappers are all stitched 
together, girls, just the way they are to go. I am 
sure you can all sew well enough to turn up the 
hems and put on the collars. If any one can’t, she 
may sew on the buttons.” 

“ Then I guess I’ll have to sew on the buttons,” 
said Marian, looking a little shamefacedly at the 
busy workers. “ I certainly couldn’t put on a col¬ 
lar that any orphan could wear.” 

“ All right, Marian,” said Mrs. Houston, smil¬ 
ing. “ There are lots of buttons to go on, so you 
will have plenty to do. Only be sure to sew them 
tight enough. There won’t be any one over there 
to put them on again.” 

“ I just want to tell you, Mrs. Houston,” said 
Hilda Lee, looking up, “ that Anne Matthews and 
I were coming here to work this afternoon anyway, 
so we aren’t such slackers as you may think.” 

“ Oh, you girls are pretty good about coming, I 
think,” said Mrs. Houston seriously. “ I know it’s 
more fun to stay outdoors after school than to sit 
over a table here. Part of Saturday is really the 
most we can expect of you in school-time.” 

“ Especially if you work as hard as Marian and 
I do,” put in Julia, laughing. Their marks for the 
month had come out unexpectedly a little higher 
than Anne’s and Lucy’s. 

Marian looked pleased but said nothing. In fact 
174 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


she was having rather a hard time with the buttons, 
and Lucy secretly took the work away from her 
more than once to straighten out a snarl of cotton. 

“ Just think of never having even sewed on a 
button for yourself,” Lucy thought as she bent 
again over her own hemming. With the reflection 
she understood a little better a certain helplessness 
about Marian that cropped out at inconvenient 
moments, when Lucy in the midst of some occupa¬ 
tion needed a helping hand. It was not that Mar¬ 
ian was clumsy or lacked quickness—she learned 
anything with amazing readiness—it was only that 
she had never done little useful things and had to 
learn what most girls know. 

The two hours of work passed pleasantly and 
quickly, with every one sewing as hard as she could 
and talking still harder. When the clock struck 
half-past three a pile of finished garments had been 
stacked upon the table. 

“ Oh, isn’t this nice? ” said Mrs. Houston, fold¬ 
ing the little flannel dresses with approving hands. 
“ You’ve done more than I ever thought you could, 
girls, and you’ve certainly earned a rest.” 

“ We liked doing it,” said Mabel Philips, putting 
down her last piece of work. “ We’ll come any 
time you want us, if we can.” 

Every one hurried into her hat and coat and ran 
down-stairs. Outdoors a cold wind was blowing 
175 


CAPTAIN LUCr 


from Sandy Hook which flung capes and coats 
about in clinging folds, and made the sentry’s ears 
red, as he walked in front of the club, shifting his 
gun occasionally from one shoulder to the other. 

“Gracious!” said Marian, snuggling promptly 
down into her fur collar. “ I’m glad Lucy can’t 
take me for a walk to-da\ r . This is the sort of 
weather she likes to go around the island just where 
the wind is strongest.” 

“ Isn’t she cruel? ” said Anne Matthews, laugh¬ 
ing. She did not add that Marian’s rosier cheeks 
and growing endurance were a pretty good defense 
of Lucy’s persevering methods. 

Back at the Gordons’, after the wraps were put 
aside, Lucy said to her guests: “ I thought it would 
be fun to play games for a while. What do you 
think? You aren’t any of you too old to like Blind 
Man’s Buff and Stage-Coach and Winks, are you? ” 

The three reverend sixteen-year-olds expressed 
their perfect willingness to play anything, and pro¬ 
posed Stage-Coach to begin with. Every one was 
eager to move about after sitting still so long and 
in a few moments the house was in a joyous uproar, 
as though having worked so hard made the girls 
more able to enjoy themselves. 

Stage-Coach was followed by Winks and Going 
to Jerusalem—played with the help of the Yictrola, 
and finally a calm ensued for twenty questions. 

176 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Then came Charades, acted in Lucy’s and Marian’s 
rooms, with one room for the actors and one for 
the audience. These were so popular that they 
lasted until Lucy whispered to Marian, who hap¬ 
pened to be on the audience side at the moment: 

“ Would you mind going down and telling Mar¬ 
garet and Rosie that we’re ready now? It’s nearly 
five o’clock.” 

Marian ran down-stairs to the dining-room and 
gave Rosie Lucy’s message. Mrs. Gordon had put 
a pretty, embroidered cloth on the table and a big 
fern in the center. Everything was ready on it 
except for Margaret to bring things up from the 
kitchen, and for the candles to be lighted, for five 
o’clock meant nearly darkness now. 

“ Shall I light the candles? ” asked Rosie, look¬ 
ing very trim and nice in her little white apron. 
“ Did Miss Lucy say they’d be right down? ” 

“ Yes, they are coming in just a minute,” said 
Marian, drawing up another chair to the table, and 
counting to see if there were enough. 

Suddenly a gust of wind from the harbor blew 
open the big glass door opening from the dining¬ 
room on the back piazza. Marian rushed toward 
it in a panic as the table-cloth billowed and fluttered 
and the pictures on the wall rocked back and forth. 
She seized the door and closed it, and as she strug¬ 
gled with the fastening she heard something fall 

177 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


behind her and heard Rosie scream. The lighted 
candle had tipped over on the table and Rosie, 
wildly snatching at the fallen candlestick and at 
the second one, ready to fall, had set fire to her 
fluttering apron. 

The flame sprang quickly to life in the air still 
quivering from the gust of wind, and curled dan¬ 
gerously against her muslin dress as Rosie’s trem¬ 
bling hands tried vainly to untie the strings. “ Get 
some water!” she stammered, white with terror, 
and remembering only one of the counsels taught 
her—to stand still. 

The water-pitcher was across the room from 
Marian, and one good drenching would have put 
out the flame, but Marian stood rooted to the spot 
with horror, literally unable to move, her staring 
eyes fixed on Rosie’s apron, and on the girl’s ter¬ 
rified, white face as she still tugged at the strings 
behind her waist. But Rosie found her voice now, 
and she burst into such screams that Margaret 
came running breathless from below, and the whole 
party, abandoning charades, rushed down-stairs 
with headlong speed. One look at Rosie and Mar¬ 
garet seized the pitcher of water and poured it over, 
her blazing apron and already kindling skirt; then, 
laying the child on the floor, she rolled her tightly 
in a rug till the last spark was extinguished. By 
the time the girls and Mrs. Gordon were on the 
178 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


scene the danger was over, and except for being 
pale and trembling, Rosie was unharmed. 

“ What on earth happened? Is she hurt? ” 
“ Good gracious, did she catch fire? ” “ I heard 

those awful screams, and-” came in a babel of 

voices. Some one dressed as a gypsy, to judge by 
a quantity of shawls and curtains, shouted excitedly 
to a sort of Daniel Boone, in Major Gordon’s boots 
and William’s leather cap. The charaders had not 
waited to change their clothes. The room was 
crowded to the doors, for the sentry had run into 
the house, gun in hand, at Rosie’s shrieks, to be re¬ 
enforced by two soldiers from the Quartermaster’s 
who were doing carpentry in the basement. 

Mrs. Gordon had little time to devote to Rosie, 
once assured that she was safe, for Marian, after 
that awful second of paralyzed horror, had sunk 
down almost fainting on a chair, oblivious to all 
around her. Lucy ran for water and patted her 
forehead with a moistened handkerchief, while the 
girls gathered about, alarmed and sympathetic, 
•offering each one a different suggestion in excited 
whispers. Marian’s failure to rise to the occasion 
of Rosie’s need was kindly attributed to her being 
almost an invalid, and only exclamations of pity 
followed her, when at last she was able to be helped 
to her feet and up-stairs with Mrs. Gordon’s arm 
about her shoulders. 


179 



CAPTAIN LUCT 

Rosie was too shaken to stay, besides being 
dripping wet, so two of the guests volunteered to 
walk home with her, as Sergeant Wyatt’s house was 
only a short way off. 

“ We won’t be gone more than ten minutes, 
Lucy,” they assured their hostess, who began to 
feel doubtful about her little party ever taking 
place. 

Mrs. Gordon came back from Marian’s room to 
urge every one to sit down at the table. “ Marian 
is all right,” she said, “ and Margaret is waiting to 
bring things in. Sit down, all of you, and I will 
just see that Rosie has enough warm clothes on to 
go home.” 

Rosie was standing by the front door with Lucy 
and several of the girls still surrounding her, when 
down the stairs came Marian, looking pretty pale 
and holding on to the banister, but carrying under 
one arm a huge cardboard box. Lucy looked at her 
in astonishment and saw that her face was as quiet 
and determined as it had been on the day of Bob’s 
departure. Marian went straight up to Rosie and 
held out the big box to her, saying, “ Please take 
this, Rosie. It’s a present, because I’m sorry your 
dress is spoiled. If I had had any sense it wouldn’t 
have been.” 

In a hushed silence Rosie took hold of the box 
with uncertain fingers. But as she fumbled with 
180 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

the lid and, opening it, half revealed the glories 
within, she flushed red with pleasure and sinking 
down on the floor lifted out the lovely rose-colored 
dress with a sigh of wondering delight. She was 
almost Marian’s size, and no normal girl could have 
resisted that dress, especially one who had so few 
pretty things come her way as the Sergeant’s little 
daughter. 

“ Oh, thank you! ” she breathed, her eyes raised 
to Marian as to a fairy godsister as she put back the 
dress and struggled, in a fluttering shower of tissue- 
paper, to her feet. 

The burst of enthusiasm which greeted this gen¬ 
erous act was echoed with unbounded rejoicing in 
Lucy’s heart. She could hardly wait until Rosie 
was gone and the others had started back toward the 
dining-room to catch her cousin by the arm and 
whisper, “ Oh, Marian, you’re a brick! ” 

All during the last half hour, since Marian had 
stood weakly helpless in the face of Rosie’s danger, 
Lucy had been struggling with her feelings, vainly 
trying to excuse her cousin’s cowardice and only 
succeeding in feeling unsympathetic and disap¬ 
pointed. But all in a moment now Lucy saw that 
Marian had been as little satisfied with her conduct 
as she herself, and had taken prompt and heroic 
measures to redeem it. No one who had seen 
Marian trying on that taffeta dress would have 
181 


CAPTAIN LUCr 


doubted that it took a generous effort to give it 
away before she had even worn it. She might have 
given any one of a dozen dresses as good as new, 
and far better than Rosie’s little muslin, but she 
chose the only one she really cared to keep. 

Marian had flushed at Lucy’s praise, and her face 
wore a happy smile as the guests sat down to a 
belated feast of hot chocolate, brown bread sand¬ 
wiches, ice-cream and cookies. In a moment 
tongues were loosed, and the excitement made more 
to talk about now that it was safely over. Marian 
came in for a good share of comment, both aloud 
and whispered, and not one of Lucy’s friends but 
gave her the credit she deserved for making the 
best atonement in her power. 

When the girls had eaten all they could and 
finally taken their leave, Julia lingered a moment, 
ostensibly to ask Mrs. Gordon about the first-aid 
class which Mrs. Matthews was beginning the next 
day for Anne and her friends, but really more than 
anything to have a friendly word with Marian and 
let her know that an honest effort at self-improve¬ 
ment did not go unnoticed. Marian was quick 
enough at guessing the feelings of others. She 
felt the atmosphere of appreciation about her, and 
the faint color returned to her pale cheeks and a 
cheerful light to her eyes. She had suffered a few 
moments of real shame in her room alone after Mrs. 

182 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Gordon had left her, and nothing less than this 
would have restored her peace of mind. 

That night Lucy sat on the sofa by her window 
with the moonlight shining in on her, and thought 
with a glow of satisfaction of her own hard work in 
Marian’s behalf and of the returns it had already 
brought, small and scattered though they were. 
Her mother had not felt quite so pleased as the 
others at Marian’s giving away her father’s present, 
but she had nevertheless appreciated the sacrifice 
which lay behind it. Lucy felt a warm friendship 
for her cousin now, in spite of her trying moments, 
but another small problem loomed up, which must 
be solved on the next day. 

“ I’ll ask Mother to decide it,” she thought, for 
sleep was getting the best of her reflective mood. 

Lucy raised the window and looked up at the 
full moon, gleaming clear and bright in the starry 
sky. 

“ That moon is looking down on Bob somewhere 
in France. I wonder if he’s watching it too.” 

Then the cold air came blowing in and, with a last 
look at the man in the moon’s cheerful face, she ran 
to get into bed. 


183 


CHAPTER XI 


FIRST AID 

Next morning Lucy began the day, as she often 
liked to do, by going into her mother’s room for a 
talk before breakfast. Mrs. Gordon was standing 
in front of the dressing-table and Lucy sat down 
near her in her favorite position, her hands clasped 
about one knee. 

“ Well, what is it this morning, daughter? ” asked 
Mrs. Gordon, smiling at Lucy’s thoughtful face, 
and with an approving glance at her smoothly 
brushed hair and the fresh white collar on her serge 
dress. “ What a pity you cannot stay as tidy as 
that all day,” she added, for occasionally Lucy ap¬ 
peared after a busy hour with a wild look to her 
hair and clothes which disturbed her mother ex¬ 
tremely. 

“Yes, isn’t it?” said Lucy, smiling back. “I 
am a little neater lately though, Mother, you said so 
yourself. But here’s what I want to know. Our 
first-aid class begins to-day—you haven’t forgotten 
it? And after Marian’s almost fainting yesterday, 
184 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


even though she did act so bully afterward, what do 
you think about her joining? I’m going to be 
worried half the time about her.” 

Mrs. Gordon turned from the dressing-table to 
look at Lucy as she answered, “ I want her to join. 
Never mind whether you feel nervous about it or 
not. You know I told you it was not going to be 
an easy task to make Marian so well and strong as 
you are, but you have succeeded far better than I 
hoped. I shall be very much disappointed if 
Marian doesn’t take part in that class. There is 
everything in it she needs—companionship, work, 
competition—and you know how quick she is to 
learn. I don’t feel at all afraid that it will be too 
hard for her. She is able to do a lot if she is in¬ 
terested.” 

“ Yes,” nodded Lucy, “ I knew you’d say that, 
Mother, so I didn’t bother deciding it for myself.” 

“ She wants to join, doesn’t she? ” 

“ Yes, rather. I can make her like it, once we 
get started.” 

“ Of course, it would be easier, Lucy, to let 
Marian alone, to do things or not as she happens to 
like,” Mrs. Gordon went on, “ but that wouldn’t be 
doing her any service, or Cousin Henry either. He 
wasn’t satisfied to see Marian a frail, listless little 
shadow of a girl. It has made him thin and anxious 
himself in the years since her mother died, but I 

185 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


think he hated forcing her to do anything she did 
not want to.” 

“ I think he did, too,” said Lucy, looking up with 
a responsive nod. “ It’s a lot of help to talk things 
over with you, Mother. I do get muddled some¬ 
times. I don’t see what any girl does without a 
mother to go to, even if her father is as kind as 
Cousin Henry.” 

“What’s this?” asked Major Gordon’s voice 
from the door. “ Something hard about a father? 
This one would like his breakfast in about two min¬ 
utes, if the conversation is over.” 

Marian’s consent to join the first aid and home 
nursing class had only got as far as saying she 
would try it once, but that was all Lucy wanted for 
the present. The class was to meet at the Matthews’ 
the first time and then at the house of each member 
in turn every Saturday morning. Mrs. Matthews 
had engaged a nurse from the New York Hospital 
to give the course, after the repeated begging of 
Anne and the other girls for her to follow up the 
suggestion she had made a month before. Some of 
Lucy’s guests of the previous day were too young to 
take the course, but the class numbered eight mem¬ 
bers, ranging in age from fourteen to sixteen. 

When Lucy and Marian reached the Matthews’ 
at nine o’clock, most of them were already there, 
seated in the small room to the left of the hall, with 
186 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Miss Thomas ready to address them. She was a 
slim, athletic looking young woman with curly red 
hair and a bright twinkle in her eyes. When her 
whole class was before her she began to speak with¬ 
out preamble. 

“ Instead of giving you the whole course in first 
aid and then the home nursing, I am going to de¬ 
vote half of the morning to each, ,, she said, laying 
down a little pile of books on the table before 
her. 

“ I warn you, girls, there is a little studying to 
be done in connection with this course, but it isn’t 
very tedious, and I know you are here to do things 
in earnest. The first half of the morning while you 
are all fresh and feel restless we will have our nurs¬ 
ing, and then I think you will be more ready to sit 
still for my talk on first aid. So if you will show 
me to a bedroom, Miss Matthews, we will begin at 
once.” 

Anne led the way up-stairs to her own room, 
where Miss Thomas, with an energetic quickness 
that won Lucy’s instant approval, began pulling 
the neatly made bed to pieces. 

“ Now, let’s see you make that up comfortably 
for an invalid,” she directed, nodding to Julia. 
“ You, Miss Matthews, prepare a bedside table, 
with water, spoon, medicine glass, thermometer, and 
whatever will be wanted for the doctor’s visit. 

187 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


This is, of course, just experimenting to see how 
much you all know of the elements of nursing. 
Now, I want a patient. You, please,” she decided, 
pointing after a swift glance around at Marian, who 
shrank back quite visibly at the command. 

“ Oh, you mustn’t mind anything,” Miss Thomas 
reproached her, with a pleasant, reassuring smile. 
“ I expect every girl to be ready and eager to do 
her part. Sit down on that chair, please, Miss— 
Leslie, while this young lady here takes your pulse. 
You,” she nodded in Lucy’s direction, “ please bring 
the thermometer and take her temperature. We 
want to find out all we can about her condition be¬ 
fore the doctor comes, and if she has any fever she 
must wait for his arrival in bed.” 

Marian sat down, looking rather doubtful about 
the whole proceeding, though Lucy whispered in 
her ear as she stuck the thermometer under her 
tongue, “Don’t mind—we’ll all have to do it.” 
Playing invalid was not yet much of a joke to 
Marian, whose ill-health had been until lately the 
most important thing in life, and, for a moment, 
her thoughts returned to the old, trying days of her 
illness as she held the thermometer in her mouth 
while Hilda Lee felt her pulse with great intent¬ 
ness, her eyes glued on the second hand of Miss 
Thomas’ watch and her lips rapidly moving. 

" Good gracious,” she exclaimed suddenly, letting 
188 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


fall Marian’s hand and rising excitedly to her feet, 
“ Miss Thomas, her pulse is a hundred and ten! ” 

“Really?” asked Miss Thomas, smiling quite 
serenely. “ What is her temperature, Miss Gor¬ 
don? ” 

Lucy was at the window, trying to find the elusive 
red streak on the thermometer, and now she de¬ 
clared with an air of relief after Hilda’s announce¬ 
ment, “ It’s normal. Just at the little arrow.” 

“ But what’s the matter with her pulse, Miss 
Thomas? ” Hilda insisted. “ It should be around 
eighty, shouldn’t it? ” 

Marian was looking alarmed herself, and still sat 
anxiously on her chair, as though her strength might 
fail her. Miss Thomas laughed and went over to 
her side. 

“ It’s nothing but a little excitement, because she 
knew her pulse was being taken,” she explained. 
“ You’re quite all right, Miss Leslie, and you did 
very well. Now, Miss Houston, suppose we say 
that you are a patient who has been ill several weeks. 
Just slip off your pumps and lie down on the bed. 
-Let’s see if Miss Gordon can raise you comfortably 
to give you a drink and help you to turn over. Act 
very helpless and do nothing for yourself.” 

Julia obeyed and Lucy, putting a strong arm be¬ 
hind her shoulders, raised her vigorously to a sitting 
position. 

189 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


“ Oh, you are a little too energetic,” said Miss 
Thomas. “ That would hurt any sore muscles out¬ 
rageously. Try again. Raise her firmly but 
more slowly.” 

This time Lucy lifted Julia as tenderly as a basket 
of eggs, and breathed a sigh of relief when it was 
done, for Julia made herself as heavy as possible, 
and looked the most helpless invalid out of a hos¬ 
pital. 

“ You try it now,” said Miss Thomas, nodding 
to Mabel Philips, “ and this time arrange her pil¬ 
lows with your other hand before letting her lie 
back.” 

Marian was standing by the bedside, her uneasi¬ 
ness about herself forgotten as she watched Julia, 
and Miss Thomas reached out a steady hand and 
felt her pulse. 

“It’s all right now,” she nodded to Marian with 
a smile. “ Not more than eighty-two. You 
mustn’t let it fool you that way. It’s possible to 
become quite ill if we think we are. When you’re 
in doubt as to how you feel, decide right away that 
you are quite well, and more than likely you will 
be.” 

“ What, can you really feel ill because you think 
you’re going to? ” asked Marian incredulously. 

“ Some people can, especially those who have had 
trying illnesses. The best thing for every one in 
190 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


the world is to obey the laws of health and then 
think no more about feelings.” 

“ Yes, you can often help yourself to get better 
by just not giving in,” remarked Mabel. 

“ Not when you have a toothache. You can’t 
forget that,” said Anne thoughtfully, at which 
every one laughed. One toothache was the only 
sickness Anne had ever suffered from since her 
whooping-cough days. 

The whole class was listening to Miss Thomas, 
who spoke so particularly to Marian, because her 
keen eyes had seen and understood much of the 
little invalid’s life history in the short while that 
she had watched Marian’s pretty, sensitive face, 
where the delicate color came and went with such 
quick changes at the least disturbance. 

“ We haven’t accomplished very much this morn¬ 
ing,” she said at last, turning back to the others, 
“ because I was only trying to see where we were 
and how I had better start. We will go through 
the regular nurse’s program next week. Now, if 
you will come down-stairs, I will give you a little 
talk and assign you lessons in the first-aid manual.” 

“ Go on, you husky invalid,” said Lucy to Julia, 
giving her former patient a jog in the back as they 
filed out of the room. “ You nearly broke my 
arm.” 

“ Well, you always say you like hard things to 
191 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


do,” responded Julia laughing, “ so I thought I’d 
give you the chance. I like being the sick person,” 
she added. “ I hope she chooses me again.” 

“ I know something about bandaging, when we 
come to that,” said Lucy. “ Elizabeth taught me. 
You sit with me, Julia. Marian is with Anne, so 
she is all right.” 

Lucy glanced along the row of girls and saw with 
pleasure that Marian showed a great deal of interest 
in the talk which followed. When the lesson had 
been given out at the end and the girls rose to go, 
Marian took her book from Miss Thomas with a 
friendly smile such as she seldom accorded to 
strangers. The three girls walked home together 
as far as the Gordons’ and Julia said, as they dis¬ 
cussed the morning’s work: 

“ Isn’t she a nice, jolly person? I don’t mind 
doing anything she asks me to do.” 

“ Yes, isn’t she nice? ” agreed Marian. “ She’d 
make you feel better as soon as she came in the 
room to nurse you. I think I’ll like it as soon as 
I get it through my head a little,” she added, doubt¬ 
fully. “ I don’t know even as much about it as the 
rest of you.” 

“ You must know precious little,” said Julia. “ I 
can hardly wait to see what the lesson is. I bet it’s 
hard, from what she said.” They had neared the 
Gordons’ house and Julia turned to cross the grass. 

192 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ I’m too hungry to go any further with you. 
Good-bye, till this afternoon! ” 

At lunch Lucy and Marian gave an interested 
account of the morning’s doings, and Marian 
eagerly described the extraordinary conduct of her 
pulse and Miss Thomas’ words, which she had taken 
very thoughtfully. Mrs. Gordon listened with a 
little of her attention diverted to the new house¬ 
maid who had arrived only the night before and 
seemed not very certain where to find the plates 
and spoons as they were wanted. But she felt a 
very real satisfaction that Marian had liked the 
class and was anxious to continue it, and she watched 
her comfortably eating chicken hash and rice with 
the feeling that health and the pleasures belonging 
to it were nearer to the motherless girl than they 
had ever been before. 

“ We’re going to have a snow-storm before night, 
children,” remarked Major Gordon, as they rose 
from the table, “ so don’t wander far out on the 
prairies this afternoon.” The Major had spent 
much of his home service in the West, and the re¬ 
stricted limits of this island post were always a 
subject of mild amusement to him. 

“ I have to wander over my Latin lesson before 
I do anything else,” said Lucy, resignedly. “ Let’s 
go up-stairs and get it done, Marian. I keep my 
school papers safely out of reach since Happy 
i93 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


chewed up my French composition. Yes, he did, 
William, so you needn’t look offended.” 

“ But he’s only chewed your things once, Lucy. 
Most of the things he’s eaten were mine,” protested 
William, putting up a defense which made every¬ 
body laugh. 

“ All right. I didn’t mind much,” said Lucy. “ I 
like him just the same.” 

When Marian and Lucy had left the room, Major 
Gordon came back from the hall, cap in hand, to 
say to his wife, “ Sally, have you noticed a change 
in Marian lately—how much livelier she seems? ” 

Mrs. Gordon laughed. “ Have I noticed it, 
James! Lucy and I have been doing our best to 
bring it about for the past two months. She 
actually enjoys going around with other girls now, 
and the effort has been a good thing for Lucy, too. 
You know, Marian has the making of a very fine 
and accomplished girl under her drawback of ill- 
health. Don’t you think she has grown to be a 
very pleasant little guest? ” 

“ Not only that, but she looks so much stronger, 
and she has some color in her cheeks. I hated to 
see her as thin and white as she looked in the sum¬ 
mer. I didn’t wonder Henry was afraid to leave 
her. She’s gained at least ten pounds, I’m cer¬ 
tain—though she hasn’t had many luxuries here.” 

“ I don’t know,” said Mrs. Gordon thoughtfully. 

194 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ It’s luxury to have a home and friends her own 
age, after having lived principally in hotels and on 
shipboard for so long. I don’t think she has known 
what home is since her mother died. When she gets 
back her health—you remember what a bright, jolly 
little thing she was years ago, James?—I know 
Marian will want to open up that big Long Island 
house and live there. She is the only one left to 
make a home for her father, and with a little more 
self-confidence she is quite smart enough to do it.” 

“ Aren’t you rushing things a little? ” inquired 
Major Gordon genially. “ Henry would be a bit 
surprised at the idea.” 

“ I hope he will be more surprised when he sees 
her,” said Mrs. Gordon, smiling. “ Don’t stay too 
long at Headquarters,” she added, as her husband 
moved toward the door. “ It’s Saturday, you 
know.” 

The Major jerked his head in the direction of the 
parade, where squads of recruits were tirelessly 
drilling in the cold wind. “ It’s also war time,” 
he remarked, stopping to tickle Happy’s ears as he 
came racing up the steps. 

Lucy and Marian had gone up-stairs and plunged 
into their Latin, so as to finish with it as soon as 
possible. It was not a popular study with either 
of them, and translation, of which Miss Ellis 
seemed especially fond, was Lucy’s bugbear. 
i95 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


“ How far have you gone, Marian? ” she asked 
after twenty minutes’ silence. “ ‘ The queen will 
fight? ’ I don’t believe she will, anyway— 
why should she? Aren’t these the silliest sen¬ 
tences? ” 

“ She has to fight because we know so few verbs,” 
said Marian, laying down her pen to stretch, “ un¬ 
less you want to make her dance or sing.” 

Lucy sighed and went on to the next line: 
“ ‘ The slaves were wounded with spears and 
arrows.’ I guess it wasn’t a pacifist who wrote this 
book.” 

“ Letter, please,” said a timid voice at the door, 
and the new maid handed an envelope to Marian, 
whose “ Thank you ” sounded so pleased that Lucy 
decided the letter was from her father. 

Lucy’s eyes left her book again to follow the 
little maid out of the room with a friendly interest. 
She was a Belgian girl, whom Mrs. Gordon had 
engaged in New York, where she had just landed 
from England. She had spent the last two years 
in London and learned there to speak English 
pretty well, but before leaving her own country she 
had undergone danger and privations which still 
lingered vividly in her memory. Margaret had al¬ 
ready confided to Lucy that she had spent most of 
the evening before in listening to Marie’s story. 
“ It’s enough to give you bad dreams to hear her, 
196 



“letter, please”, said a timid voice 

























































1 
















AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Miss Lucy,” she said feelingly. “ Sorry as I am 
for the poor girl.” 

No trace of Marie’s memory of the war showed 
in her face, but a certain quiet gentleness in her 
manner made her seem older than her years. She 
was a quick, neat-handed little thing who could 
sweep and dust to Mrs. Gordon’s liking, and had 
already won William’s respect by the number of 
games she knew how to play, most of them involving 
as much running and skipping as he liked. Lucy 
was forgetting her Latin to wonder how it would 
feel to be driven brutally from her own country, 
leaving it invaded and ruined, and if she could have 
faced it with little Marie’s quiet courage. A sud¬ 
den joyful exclamation from Marian interrupted 
her. 

“ Lucy, what do you think? Father is going to 
Montreal, and will come here right afterward. He 
leaves for Canada next week, so he will probably be 
home before the first of January. A month isn’t 
so awfully long, is it? And it may be less.” 
Marian was sincerely devoted to her father, and 
the joy in her face was pleasant to see. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad, Marian,” cried Lucy warmly, 
“ but I don’t want you to go away a bit—will you 
have to?” 

“ I don’t know. Father says he may have to go 
back West. I don’t want to leave here, either, Lucy. 

197 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


It’s just that I will be so glad to see him again.” 
She turned back eagerly to the letter. “ I must 
see what else he says.” 

Mr. Leslie had written of the overwhelming rush 
of work in the lumber camps and of the necessity 
for his making a trip to Canada to unite his in¬ 
terests with those of some owners of Canadian forest 
land. The British Commission had brought valu¬ 
able suggestions to the Government ship-building 
scheme, and he wished to make his supplies useful 
to the utmost possible extent. 

Marian’s father had a world-wide experience in 
other beside business ventures. His frank and at¬ 
tractive personality had won him friends in many 
countries and, with a keen mind and a large fortune 
at his command, he had grown to be a man of wide 
influence in public life. Marian knew that her 
father had friends among the Allied Commissions 
and was not surprised at his accompanying the 
Britishers into Canada. He was never willing to 
do his work except most thoroughly, and no dis¬ 
tance was too great for him to travel if his purpose 
could better be served by going. 

“ I must show this to Cousin Sally,” said Marian, 
when she had finished the letter. “ Just one more 
sentence and I’ll be done.” She went back to her 
Latin, and in another few moments put down her 
pen and gathered up her papers. “ How nearly 
198 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


through are you, Lucy? I’ll go down and find 
Cousin Sally.” 

“ Just a minute,” murmured Lucy, searching for 
an elusive verb. “ Oh, I see it now. Take your 
things down with you, Marian. .We’re going out, 
aren’t we? ” 

“ All right,” called Marian from her room. “ I’ll 
bet it’s cold,” she added with sudden foreboding. 

Left alone, Lucy scrambled through the last of 
her lesson and slammed the book shut with relief. 
“ No more of that till Monday,” she thought, push¬ 
ing the book out of sight under a sofa pillow and go¬ 
ing to the closet for her coat and tam-o’-shanter. 
Remembering her mother’s early morning remarks, 
she stopped in front of the glass to put on her tarn, 
and pushed some stray locks of hair up under it 
instead of pulling it on her head as she went out of 
the room. She left the closet door open and the 
ink-bottle uncorked, but then she was preoccupied 
in thinking of Mr. Leslie’s return and hoping he 
would be delayed for another month, until Marian’s 
growing activity had brought her still nearer to 
health. 

Down-stairs she found her mother rejoicing with 
Marian over the good news and reading the letter 
aloud. 

“ Oh, I wish he could get here for Christmas, 
Cousin Sally,” Marian exclaimed, when Mrs. Gor- 
199 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


don had finished. “ He is always so nice about 
giving things that I’ve never even asked for.” 
Christmas this year seemed far more interesting 
than it had ever been before Marian had cousins to 
share it with, and the presents she had accepted 
heretofore with listless thanks and little apprecia¬ 
tion held great possibilities for pleasure this year, 
if the Gordons could enjoy them too. 

Christmas for Lucy and her mother did not seem 
very merry, and Marian’s words wakened more sad 
thoughts than bright ones for the moment in their 
hearts. It would be the first Christmas in Lucy’s 
lifetime that Bob had not been home. Even in 
his jdebe year at West Point he had worked hard 
enough to get two days off and had come home in a 
blinding snow-storm. It seemed dreadful to Lucy 
to celebrate gayly without him, and only her 
mother’s reminder that William ought not to be so 
disappointed had made her look forward to Christ¬ 
mas with any real interest. The part she had most 
enjoyed was getting a big box sent to Bob a week 
ago, with every good thing in it that she could re¬ 
member he liked, or that bore any reasonable chance 
of reaching there in eatable condition. She had 
made five pounds of fudge, standing over the stove 
until Margaret exclaimed in alarm at her hot, 
flushed cheeks, and came to take the spoon out of 
her hand. But the fudge was good, and so was 
200 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


everything else that went in the box, and if only 
Lucy could have taken it over to France herself 
and handed it safely to Bob she would have been 
satisfied. 

She was on the point of saying now, “ I wonder 
if Bob will get that box all right,” but she checked 
herself abruptly and said, instead, “ Come on, 
Marian, if we wait any longer it will be cold and 
horrid outdoors. Let’s go now.” 

“ I wouldn’t go far; it really looks like snow,” 
remarked Mrs. Gordon, drawing aside the curtain. 

“We won’t, Mother. Perhaps we’ll only go as 
far as Julia’s,” said Lucy, winding a muffler about 
her neck. 

Marian was already wrapped in cloth and fur, 
and the two girls went outdoors and crossed the 
grass toward the Houstons’, where the rising wind 
whipped at their clothes and almost lifted Marian 
off her feet, while she shrieked and clung to Lucy, 
alternating between fear and laughter. 

“ I guess we won’t go out on the sea-wall to-day,” 
said Lucy; “unless you especially wish to?” she 
added with a funny look. 

“ Br-r-r! ” said Marian, shivering at the thought. 
“ Why doesn’t every one live in the South, I won¬ 
der? What’s the use in having cold ears and a 
frozen face, and being nearly blown off your feet? 
I’m sorry for that sentry.” 

201 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


“ Why, this isn’t really winter yet—it’s only cold 
for November,” said Lucy, encouragingly. “ Oh, 
Governor s Island is a nice, sheltered spot in mid¬ 
winter. It’s not so cold as Fort Russell. There 
it’s nearly always below zero. The only warm post 
we’ve ever been was at Fort McPherson, Georgia, 
and I was so little then I didn’t appreciate it. Let’s 
go right in. I can’t wait while they answer the 
bell,” she declared on the Houstons’ door-step. 
“ Julia won’t mind.” 

Once the three girls were sitting comfortably in 
Julia’s room nothing could tempt Marian outdoors 
again for a walk, and there they stayed until it 
grew dark and Lucy reminded her that the only 
way to get home was the way they had come. Julia 
loved cold weather, and was always amused at 
Marian’s aversion to it. 

“ Somehow it makes me feel lively and jolly. I 
can do twice as much now as when it’s hot,” she 
said to Marian, as she helped her on with her coat. 

“ Well, I hate it, and the most you can expect of 
me is to go out in it. You can’t expect me to like 
it, for I just don’t and won’t,” said Marian de¬ 
cidedly. “ Thanks, Julia, I can do the rest myself,” 
she added, smiling at her own earnestness, for she 
was learning from Lucy the great art of laughing 
at herself. 

“ Well, I hope you make the long, perilous jour- 
202 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


ney safely,” said Julia, taking her guests down to 
the door and looking across the grass at the lights of 
the Gordons’ house. “ I seem to see a light in the 
distance, so have courage.” 

“ Good-night,” said Lucy, laughing as she closed 
the door. 

They were blown most of the way home, so it was 
not much effort to walk, as Marian remarked from 
the depths of her fur collar. The snow that Major 
Gordon had predicted was falling in scattered 
flakes, but the wind had risen to a gale and blew 
with piercing cold on their faces. 

It was a hard night for the sentries on duty along 
the sea-wall on the windward side of the post, where 
the blast beat with full force upon them and the 
waves lashed the rocks below. Captain Evans came 
in to the Gordons’ after dinner. He was officer of 
the guard and had just made his nine o’clock tour 
of inspection, the last until one in the morning. He 
told of his wind-blown walk about the island, after 
which he had ordered the sentries frequently re¬ 
lieved during the night. 

Lucy usually rather liked these wild autumn and 
winter storms, and had enjoyed going to sleep with 
the windows rattling and the wind whistling around 
the house, but at bedtime she said soberly to her 
mother, when Mrs. Gordon came into her room to 
say good-night: 


203 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


“ I hope Bob has a stove or something. I know 
they probably aren’t having a storm over there, but 
I hate to get into nice, warm covers and not be sure 
he has enough.” 

Her words, and the anxious affection prompting 
them, were the echo of her mother’s inmost thoughts, 
but Mrs. Gordon could not say anything just then 
in answer. She only tucked her daughter carefully 
in bed, and kissed her good-night. 


204 


CHAPTER XII 


LOCKED DOORS 

A night and a day spent in a bare freight car, 
with cold wind blowing through the cracks, is un¬ 
comfortable traveling, but Bob and his companions 
would have thought little of that had circumstances 
been different. It was the knowledge of where they 
were going—as much as they guessed of it—that 
made the cold and the monotonous jogging along 
the rails almost unbearable. 

Bob could have had the adjoining empty car all 
to himself, in consideration of his rank, instead of 
sharing this one with a dozen French soldiers and 
non-commissioned officers. But he had not the 
least desire for his own company just then, and the 
friendly faces of the captured poilus were the only 
bright spot in the dreary darkness of his prison. 
At the other end of the car were four German sol¬ 
diers and a sergeant. Only one of these at a time 
paid any especial attention to the prisoners, and he 
merely sat stolidly on guard beside his rifle. The 
sliding doors were closed and bolted, and there was 
no possible chance of escape. 

All night Bob had lain on the hard, jolting floor 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


trying to sleep, hoping for dreams of something else 
beside the bitter reality. Sleep would not come, so 
he tried to lie still and think of nothing but the 
jogging wheels and the creaking timbers, until a 
light, gleaming through the cracks from outside, or 
a sigh from one of his fellow prisoners brought him 
wide awake again with a sharp pang of misery. 

His thoughts would not keep long away from the 
dismal future, and look ahead as he might with 
desperate search, he could see nothing to bring any 
comfort. All his hopes and eager ambition to give 
good service to America in the coming struggle had 
in one wretched day been shattered. He was dis¬ 
armed, captured and helpless in German hands, and 
nothing that he had heard or read in the past three 
years gave a reassuring sound to the words, or could 
make his fate other than a hard one, without pros¬ 
pect of change or betterment. How long would 
the war last? No one could have told him that, and 
it was the only knowledge that held any hope of 
freedom or happiness. 

As the long hours wore by, Bob went over in his 
restless mind all the past year and what it had 
brought him. In the ordinary course of events he 
would have been a first classman now, taking part in 
the routine of West Point life, and looking forward 
to Christmas leave. When the German army had 
crossed the Belgian border during his plebe sum- 
206 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


mer, in all the excited discussion of it at West Point 
he had never dreamed that the fourth year of the 
war would find him inside a German prison. 

At last the cold and discomfort of his position 
dulled his thoughts, and changed them to a weary 
longing for warmth and food. At dawn the slow 
train jerked itself to a standstill and the guard 
pushed open one of the wide doors. A faint light 
came in from the leaden morning sky, and showed 
a town half a mile beyond the tracks, and a small 
wooden signal-house or watering station close at 
hand. The guard brought bread and water from 
the house and distributed it among the prisoners, in 
rather meagre quantities, but it was eagerly wel¬ 
comed by the tired, hungry men. The soldier who 
gave Bob his portion offered him water from a tin 
cup instead of from the pail given to the others. 
Almost at once the door was closed again and the 
train went on. The guard retired to their end of 
the car to munch their bread, but one of them said 
something to the prisoners in German as he passed, 
accompanied by a warning shake of the head. No¬ 
body understood him, and a general inquiry arose 
among them as to what he meant, giving a spark of 
interest for the moment to the dreary journey. 
Bob thought he guessed the man’s meaning and, 
summoning his French, said to the little group near 
him: 


207 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


“ I think he means we must keep some of this 
bread for dinner.” 

A dozen faces were turned in his direction, and 
nearly as many voices answered, “ Merci , mon of - 
finer” with smiles of acknowledgment. 

Bob’s notice and help seemed to be received by 
these forlorn and dispirited Frenchmen with the 
liveliest pleasure, and evidently they were glad 
enough of a superior to question, for after a few 
moments of whispered conversation, one of them 
approached Bob and, squatting down beside him, 
said respectfully: 

“ May I make an inquiry, mon officier? ” 

Bob nodded, looking into the man’s tired face and 
at the dirty bandage wound about his throat. 

“ Can you tell us where we are going? ” asked the 
soldier doubtfully. “ Is it to Germany? ” 

“ I don’t know which part, but it is certainly Ger¬ 
many,” Bob responded. “ After these long hours 
we must be well inside the German border. I sup¬ 
pose we shall be taken to the nearest prison camp.” 

The soldier gave a nod of agreement, rising to 
rejoin his comrades with a murmur of thanks, but 
Bob held him back. “ What is the matter there? ” 
he asked, pointing to the man’s throat. 

“ Only a slight wound. It is not very painful,” 
said the Frenchman, smiling and touching the 
bandage cautiously as he spoke. 

208 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Are any of the others wounded? ” inquired Bob, 
getting up from the floor. 

“ Yes, mon Lieutenant, several of us have small 
wounds. That fellow with the empty sleeve has 
his arm in a sling, and one other had a bullet through 
his leg. They received first dressing at Petit-Bois 
after we were taken.” 

“ We may be on this train all day,” said Bob, 
speaking careful French to make his meaning clear. 
“ Let me look at the wounds, and perhaps I can 
make you more comfortable.” 

No one made any objection when this was ex¬ 
plained. The man with the empty sleeve was pale 
and suffering from the exposure of his wounded 
arm to the cold, but he offered himself to Bob’s un¬ 
skilled ministrations without a murmur. 

Before unwrapping the bandages Bob walked 
over to where the German guard sat or leaned 
against the side of the car. At his approach the 
sergeant on duty stood up with visible reluc¬ 
tance. 

“ Have you any dressings—bandages—I could 
use for the wounded prisoners? ” asked Bob, speak¬ 
ing as distinctly as he could. 

The man shook his head uncomprehendingly. 
Then, as Bob struggled to recall the little German 
he had picked up from Karl and Elizabeth, the 
sergeant spoke to a soldier who was sitting on the 
209 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


floor near by and motioned to him. The soldier got 
up and, approaching Bob, said to him: 

“ Speak English. I can understand you, Herr 
Lieutenant.” 

Bob repeated his request. The man shook his 
head, looking toward the Frenchmen with little in¬ 
terest in his face. “We have nothing,” he said at 
last. 

“ What time shall we reach our destina¬ 
tion? ” Bob inquired. “How soon do we stop?” 
he altered the question, as the man looked blankly 
at him. 

“ Ach, to-night, I think.” 

Bob nodded and went back to his fellow prisoners. 
He did the best he could for the wounded men, with 
the help of a little water, his handkerchief, and some 
strips torn from his shirt. The first-aid packets 
carried by the French soldiers had been used 
for their dressings at Petit-Bois, and Bob’s had 
been retained by his German captor there, as 
had everything else in his possession except his 
money, which was carefully hidden in his coat 
lining. 

After an hour’s hard work, not unaccompanied 
by a good deal of pain on the part of the willing 
patients, he felt that he had done what he could to¬ 
ward improving their condition. With the realiza¬ 
tion of how little considerate treatment was to be 
210 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


expected by prisoners in German hands, he thanked 
his stars that he was at least whole and unwounded, 
with strength to face the worst. 

When he had finished his task he sat down again 
by the car wall and went off into another dismal 
revery, broken, only by pangs of hunger which 
brought to mind with tantalizing vividness the 
hearty satisfying food he had enjoyed such a short 
time before. He thought of Benton, too, and won¬ 
dered what had become of him, and whether the 
Germans’ respect for his prowess would bring him 
better or worse treatment at their hands. One 
thing he was sure of, they would do their utmost to 
extract from him some of the priceless information 
he had gathered in the past six months. Equally 
certain it was that they would learn nothing. 

It was Sunday, Bob suddenly remembered. At 
home, on Governor’s Island, his people would about 
now be starting peacefully to St. Cornelius’ Chapel 
for the morning service. Their thoughts and 
prayers would be with him, he knew, but they would 
think of him as in the squadron’s camp in the midst 
of friends and allies. He began calculating how 
long it would take for news of his disappearance to 
reach home. Taking into account the inquiries 
made along a portion of the French and British 
fronts to ascertain if he and Benton had come down 
anywhere behind their own lines, he thought it 
211 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


might be several days before word was ordered 
cabled to America. As long again, perhaps, before 
the cable reached there. He rather hoped for a 
delay. What good would it do them to know that 
he was lost? They would think the worst, though 
it was hard to realize just then that there was a 
worse fate which could have befallen him. 

“ Perhaps I can get word home that I am alive 
and a prisoner,” he encouraged himself, though with 
no great confidence in any means of communication 
which might come his way. “ It will spoil their 
Christmas, whichever they hear,” he thought, with 
a sudden boyish longing at the word for a sight of 
home, made ready for Christmas, trimmed with 
holly, the big fir tree in the dining-room and each 
one of the family planning to add something to the 
day’s celebration. The Gordons always managed 
to have a good time at Christmas, and their house 
was usually full of visitors on Christmas Day. Last 
year there had been a heavy snow-storm, and Bob 
had taken William out on his new sled until 
William’s cheeks were so red and white Elizabeth 
thought they were frost-bitten and would not let 
him go near the fire when they came in. Cold 
seemed jolly and different when there was a warm 
house to go back to. Bob shivered at this thought, 
and shifted his back from a wide chink in the 
boards, but Elizabeth’s name brought with it a 
212 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


rush of gratitude as he remembered his hour of 
deadly peril at Karl’s hands. 

At about dusk that evening the train stopped and 
the guards flung open the doors. They were in the 
yard of a large railway station, and on the tracks 
beside the car appeared a couple of officials and 
half a dozen soldiers with fixed bayonets. A little 
more bread was distributed among the prisoners, 
after which they were ordered to get out and form 
in double file, Bob to bring up the rear. Any 
movement was welcome to the men’s cramped and 
chilled limbs, and even the weakest got up and will¬ 
ingly clambered down to the ground. The offi¬ 
cials exchanged a few words with the sergeant in 
charge of the prisoners, who then gave the order to 
march. The escort of soldiers from the station fell 
in with the others in a double line about the pris¬ 
oners and the party marched briskly out of the yard 
and through the station, where a scant number of 
travelers looked curiously after them, and on into 
the dimly lighted streets of the town. 

Bob could not distinguish much through the dusk, 
except that the place appeared to be fairly large, 
with cobbled streets and crowds of people, all 
hurrying homeward at this hour, talking rapid 
German and exclaiming at sight of the prisoners 
as they passed, though Bob thought they must be a 
fairly familiar sight by this time. American 
213 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


prisoners would be a novelty, but they could not 
know him to be one. He looked longingly at the 
shop windows in search of something more to eat, 
but he saw nothing, and could not have stopped to 
buy it if he had. 

In a few minutes they turned off into a side 
street, which soon became a road leading into the 
open country. Half an hour’s quick march through 
the thickening darkness brought into sight a group 
of one-storied, barrack-like buildings from which 
scattered lights glimmered. The prisoners were 
led through a wooden gateway, along passages 
made by enclosing the space with wire fencing, and 
finally to one of the low buildings, where the sentry 
on guard at that point threw open a door at a word 
from the sergeant in command. 

They entered a good-sized room, which was 
lighted by a lamp, and looked like a guard or orderly 
room. There was no furniture in it but a table and 
two chairs. From here the French soldiers were 
marched off immediately to their quarters, while 
Bob, after a moment’s delay while the sergeant 
went out and evidently consulted some one, was 
once more led outdoors and along the barrack front 
to another angle of the building. The room to 
which the sergeant now admitted him was small 
and bare, so far as Bob could see in the darkness. 
It was also very cold, and the wind whistled against 
214 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


the pane of the one window in the opposite wall. 
At the right was a mud and brick chimney, as he 
saw by the light of a lamp which a soldier now 
brought in and stood upon a rough little table near 
the center of the room. There was a cot bed, too, 
he discovered, with a gray blanket thrown over it, 
and by the table a three-legged stool. The soldier 
threw down an armful of wood he carried and began 
building a small fire, to Bob’s enormous relief. The 
sergeant had already gone out, closing the door 
after him. He evidently felt no further respon¬ 
sibility, now that his prisoner’s safe arrival was 
assured, as Bob could well understand, recalling 
the number of armed and watchful sentries he had 
passed in the outskirts of the prison camp. 

He sat down on the stool and watched the sol¬ 
dier dully, as he laid the sticks, blew the flame into 
life with puffs of breath that turned to vapor in the 
chilly air, and finally rose from the earthen floor, 
leaving the other sticks beside the hearth. He put 
a swift question to Bob, glancing doubtfully toward 
the fire. Bob had not the least idea what he said, 
but he nodded and the man went out, locking the 
door with a brisk rattle of keys. 

Bob went to the fire and crouched in front of it, 
warming his cold hands. Then with a sudden 
thought he rose and pulled the cot over in front of 
the hearth. The two gray blankets looked flimsy 

215 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


enough and were the only bedding above the canvas 
strips that made the mattress. Taking stock of his 
fuel he carefully banked up the burning sticks, 
adding one more to the fire. Then, after a look at 
the little nailed-down window, whose chinks, he de¬ 
cided, with the gusty draft down the chimney 
would give him air enough to breathe, he put out 
the lamp, pulled off his boots, and lay down on his 
cot before the meagre fire. 

For a second he watched the flame before his eyes 
closed. He had thought so much in the last twenty- 
four hours, in every mood from revery to ungovern¬ 
able despair, that it seemed to him he would go 
crazy if his mind worked any longer. With a 
desperate desire for rest in all his aching and weary 
limbs, he cast his cares on Heaven, and wrapping the 
thin blankets closely about him quickly fell asleep. 

When he awoke it was daylight, and outside and 
around him sounded heavy footsteps and now and 
then voices shouting orders. Bob sat up, feeling 
wonderfully refreshed by his sleep, though his mind 
was clear enough about the happenings of the night 
before and he frowned, weighed down with a black 
depression. His fire was almost out and the room 
was freezing. Fie got up and rekindled the blaze 
with what was left of the wood, then walked around 
the little room trying to warm himself. By his 
wrist-watch it was a quarter to seven, and the sun 
216 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

had not yet risen. Through the window he could 
see only wire netting with a pacing sentry behind 
it, and beyond that a field and a piece of woodland. 
He had not the remotest idea what part of Ger¬ 
many he was in. The north, he imagined by the 
increased cold, but he was not familiar enough with 
the climate to make a good guess. 

He felt ravenously hungry, and as he walked aim¬ 
lessly about the little space he tried to guess by the 
sounds what was happening around him, and what 
chance he had of getting some sort of breakfast be¬ 
fore long. The chimney side of the room, to judge 
by the noise beyond it, adjoined a guard room or 
some occupied part of the barracks, but from the 
left side came no sounds except an occasional light 
footstep, and once the rasping of a chair or table 
over the clay floor. Bob wondered who his quiet 
neighbors were on this side, his thoughts going also 
to the wounded men among his late companions, 
and hoping that his bungling work had been supple¬ 
mented before this by proper dressings. 

Presently he heard steps outside on the gravel 
and in a moment his door was unlocked and opened. 
A German sergeant, with a red face and bristling 
ej r ebrows, came in with a slight bow, which Bob 
silently returned. He had been recalling as many 
German words as he could, in the last half hour, 
seeing how much he would need them, and now he 
217 


CAPTAIN LUCT 

addressed the sergeant with a kind of doubtful de¬ 
termination : 

“ I want food, please, and a fire.” 

The grammar and accent were remarkable, he 
knew, but he thought the words made sense. The 
sergeant looked keenly at him, seeming to under¬ 
stand, for he glanced at the hearth, then back at 
Bob, drew his lips close together, nodded and went 
out. 

He left the door unlocked, so Bob opened it and 
looked out, for the sun had risen and he thought the 
cold outer air would be pleasanter than the chilly 
dampness of his prison. The sentry beyond the 
wire netting looked sharply at him, but continued 
his walk. On the other side of the wire fence was 
a square yard, on which opened another low wooden 
building, with smoke rising from its chimney. Bob 
guessed this to be the kitchen, for now he heard the 
tramp of many feet on his left, and along the in¬ 
closed lane in the netting came a long line of pris¬ 
oners, carrying tin cups and basins, and marching 
toward the open space. 

Some of them were talking in a tongue that was 
absolutely strange to him. They grew silent as 
they neared the sentries and then Bob saw by the 
blouses of their worn and faded uniforms that they 
were Russians. They must number five hundred, 
he thought, and they were followed by perhaps two 
218 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


hundred French infantrymen, many with bandaged 
arms or hands, and some walking with difficulty, 
by the aid of a cane or a comrade’s supporting 
shoulder. 

At about the time the first of them reached the 
other building, a soldier neared Bob’s door carrying 
a pail in one hand and a smoking dish in the other. 
Bob’s mouth watered at sight of it, and he quickly 
made way for the man, who deposited the basin of 
what appeared to be coffee on the table, the pail of 
water on the floor, and drew from under his arm a 
brown loaf of bread, which he put down beside the 
coffee. 

“ Zwei tage” he remarked, pointing to it with a 
serious air. 

Zwei Bob knew, but two what? He could not 
think what tage was. He remembered the fire 
though, and said hastily to the soldier, who had al¬ 
ready turned to go, “ More wood.” 

The man looked uncertain, bowed, and went out. 
Bob sat down to his breakfast, drinking the odd¬ 
tasting substitute for coffee without criticism. It 
was at least hot and comforting, and a big piece 
wrenched from one end of the loaf made him feel 
another man. Suddenly, the meaning of tage came 
to him. Of course—days—“ two days.” That was 
what the soldier had said. He had pointed to the 
bread, which was evidently supposed to last for that 
219 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


length of time. The thought was not very cheer¬ 
ing unless the rest of his diet was forthcoming. He 
had observed a very marked difference in his treat¬ 
ment as an officer from that accorded to the enlisted 
men who were prisoners. This distinction, Bob 
surmised, was made more for the benefit of the Ger¬ 
man soldiery, whose respect for an officer must be 
maintained at any cost, than for a more generous 
reason. But he was evidently to be treated with 
outward marks of civility, though his comforts, he 
foresaw, would be scarce enough, unless he could 
open communication with some outside means of 
supply. 

He could easily have eaten half the loaf of bread 
then and there, but the soldier’s words had made an 
impression, and he got up without taking another 
bite. His door was still unlocked and he stood on 
the threshold, trying to get some warmth from the 
rays of the sun, for his fire had not been replenished. 
The wire fence, fully ten feet high and barbed at the 
top, ran along the front of the barrack at a distance 
of about a dozen steps from it, the only break being 
the wire lane extending to the open yard in the 
center. Down this lane a sentry walked, com¬ 
manding a fine view of both sides of the yard. A 
short distance to the left another sentry’s beat be¬ 
gan, in front of the adjoining barrack. 

At about a hundred feet to the right and left of 
220 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Bob’s door the wire curved suddenly in to the bar¬ 
rack wall, leaving only that length for a walk, and 
enclosing about five doors, so far as he could see 
down the line. One of these doors opened into the 
room next his, where he had heard the subdued 
sounds of the early morning, and as he stood there 
shivering, fastening his coat before trying a walk 
up the little inclosure in the biting wind, he became 
aware that his neighbor was also standing on his 
own threshold. 

The French soldiers were just returning from 
across the yard with their ration, hurrying back to 
shelter with the steaming bowls, and Bob could see 
that the man was watching them, absorbed and 
motionless. Before he caught more than a glimpse 
of the tall figure he had gone back into his room. 
Bob returned likewise for his helmet, thinking un¬ 
pleasant things of the soldier who was leaving him 
to freeze for want of a little wood, when a footstep 
caused him to turn expectantly. Instead of the 
stolid German orderly, he saw an erect, distin¬ 
guished looking man in the faded blue uniform of a 
French infantry Captain. He stood just outside 
the door, and as Bob turned he bowed and extended 
his hand, a bright smile lighting up his pale, thin 
face. 

“ I am your neighbor, Monsieur the Lieutenant,” 
he said, in correct if rather painstaking English. 

221 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


Bob stepped out and shook his hand warmly. 
How eagerly he welcomed the company of this un¬ 
fortunate Frenchman was told by his face and the 
grip of his fingers before he said, “ I’m very glad to 
see you. Can’t you come in? * 

The Frenchman’s eyes looked pleased at the 
warmth of his welcome by the American, whose 
frank young face he was scanning with both liking 
and pity, but he cast a look at the sentry before he 
answered, “ I think he will not object. We can at 
least wait until he does.” 

They entered Bob’s room, where Bob drew for¬ 
ward the stool, reserving for himself the low table, 
which was solidly built of timber. 

“ I am Philippe Bertrand, Captain of French in¬ 
fantry,” said his guest, seating himself and removing 
his cap from his black hair as he spoke. “ May I 
ask your name and where you were taken? ” 

Bob willingly responded to the friendly inquiry, 
and for every word he spoke he had an interested 
listener. He told the Frenchman where he came 
from and the length of his service, finally asking, 
“ Can you give me any idea of where we are, Cap¬ 
tain? ” 

Bertrand pronounced a German name which 
meant nothing to Bob. The added information 
that the place was situated in Prussia made things 
a little clearer. 


222 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ How long have you been here, Captain? ” he 
asked with an inward shudder. 

“ Six months,” replied Bertrand, a shadow com¬ 
ing over his thin face. “ Before that I was fighting 
since 1914 near the northern end of the British line 
in Flanders. That is how I learned English.” 

“ But are you the only officer imprisoned here? ” 
asked Bob. “ There seem to be a great number of 
other prisoners.” 

“ There are no other French or British officers 
here now. They have been transferred elsewhere. 
There were Russian officers next to me until last 
week, but they have been taken away. There was 
some rumor of an armistice signed between Russia 
and our enemies.” He frowned, looking anxiously 
at Bob. “ You have heard nothing of it? ” 

Bob had heard little of an actual armistice signed, 
but he told all he knew of the troubled state of 
things in Russia. Then, in answer to Bertrand’s 
eager questions, he told all the war news that the 
last six months could recall to his mind, ending by 
an account of America’s great preparations, the 
story of his own service overseas and his capture in¬ 
side the German lines. 

Bertrand listened with rapt attention, for little 
news had filtered into the prison, and that little cut 
to a German pattern. At some of Bob’s words he 
looked sadly downcast, but at everything relating 
223 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


to the preparations of America for the combat, he 
brightened perceptibly. At last he rose and again 
held out his hand. 

“ Our doors will be locked in a moment,” he ex¬ 
plained for his sudden departure. “ This is the 
hour of exercise, though lately I cannot much avail 
myself of it.” 

“You mean we may walk in that little space in 
front at this time? ” inquired Bob, disgustedly. 
“ Won’t they let us go anywhere else? ” 

“ Sometimes they will. I myself am not sure, 
so you must ask,” the Frenchman responded. “ I 
am no longer able to walk far, and the little prome¬ 
nade before my door does well enough.” 

“ You mean you are ill? ” asked Bob, looking 
with sinking heart at the pale face of his com¬ 
panion. 

“ I have a sort of fever, I think. It comes and 
goes, but it is rather irksome. Thank you very 
kindly for your talk. It has given me food for 
new thoughts.” 

Bob held him back a second. “ When may I see 
you again, Captain? I have such a lot to ask you 
about. You don’t know how much it means having 
you here beside me.” 

“ This evening, perhaps,” was the rather doubtful 
answer. “ My guard sometimes leaves the door 
unlocked at supper-time since I am alone here. It 
224 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


is to save himself trouble, I think. It was he who 
told me of the arrival of an American officer.” 

He bowed again, as he turned to go, with a bright 
smile that showed two rows of white, even teeth, and 
when his eyes lighted up Bob realized that he was 
a young man, in spite of the sobering effects of 
fever and privation. 

The guard reappeared with a belated armful of 
wood, as Bob reentered his room after his new 
friend’s departure. He carried his keys, too, with 
which, after building up the cold hearth, he pre¬ 
pared to lock the door, but was prevented by a 
shout from the nearest sentry. Some one was 
crossing the yard preceded by a sergeant at rigid 
attention. The guard quickly opened the door 
again, flattening himself against it as he hastily an¬ 
nounced to Bob, “ The Herr Major! ” 


S25 


CHAPTER XIII 


“ COME IN, COMRADE! " 

Bob had not seen any commissioned German 
officers since his arrival at the prison camp, but this 
one he guessed to be the Commandant, by the digni¬ 
fied importance of his gait, and the effect he pro¬ 
duced upon the guard and sentry. The officer ap¬ 
proached Bob’s doorway with deliberate step and 
clanking sword, looking keenly along the barrack 
front as though for anything needing his attention. 
He was a short, stocky, middle-aged man, with 
flaxen hair and a fair skin, his chin slightly raised 
as he shifted his bright, intelligent glance from one 
point to another. When he reached Bob’s door and 
caught sight of the prisoner, he gave him a long 
look, then a quick nod by way of salutation. Bob 
returned the nod, standing silently by his table 
when the officer entered, followed by the sergeant 
with much clatter of boots. As Bob saw his face 
plainly he found little in it to like. The prim, set 
lips and cold, light-gray eyes told of a rigid and un¬ 
generous nature; of the Sort of man who prefers 
rules to justice. Bob had no time to make any 
more reflections before the major seated himself on 
226 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB , 

the stool brought quickly forward by the sergeant, 
and, fixing his eyes on the prisoner, began a long 
question in rapid German, accompanied by waves 
of the hand to emphasize his words. 

Bob silently shook his head and said in English, 
as soon as there was a pause in the flow of words, 
“ I cannot speak German, Herr Major.” 

The great man frowned angrily, his face growing 
red with the quick temper that is aroused by trifles 
and as easily calmed. He stared at Bob for a 
moment, as though trying to discover whether or 
not he was speaking the truth, then evidently de¬ 
ciding that he was, he puckered his brows and began 
irritably in English. 

“To me at once your name, your rank, your corps 
and their position tell. And the event of how you 
at our hands were taken.” He stopped rather sud¬ 
denly, his labored English apparently failing him. 

Bob began promptly, and repeated what he had 
already told the officers at Petit-Bois. He had 
managed to satisfy them without giving any definite 
information, and he had little trouble now in being 
sufficiently vague to make his answers valueless, for 
his questioner did not know enough of the American 
positions to contradict him. The inquiry was ended 
sooner than it might have been by the evident un¬ 
willingness felt by the German to struggle on in 
English. Bob suspected that half his rapid an- 
227 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


swers had not been understood. When a pause 
finally ensued he took the questioning boldly into 
his own hands and said: 

“ Herr Major, as a prisoner of war, I should like 
to make a request.” 

“ What is it?” snapped the officer in German, 
roused from his thoughts and staring with an 
irritable unfriendliness at the American prisoner. 

“ I should like more room for exercise, and suf¬ 
ficient food and fire.” Bob thought he might as 
well speak his mind at once. He did not see what 
harm could come of his demands, which were quite 
within his rights, even if they should be unheeded. 

The major seemed little impressed by them. He 
got up, nodding shortly in acknowledgment, but 
the only reply he vouchsafed was the inquiry, in 
English, “ You some money perhaps have? ” 

Bob was surprised but he answered truthfully, 
“ Yes, a little.” 

“ A canteen there is.” The major jerked his 
head in the direction of the kitchen building. 
“ There you more food can sometimes buy. We 
cannot feed our prisoners as you live in America! ” 
This was said with a flash of spiteful fury not lost 
upon Bob, who saw in that moment how little, be¬ 
yond the most grudging sustenance, he or his coun¬ 
trymen could expect at German hands. 

The major went out without any further words, 
228 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


accompanied by a shout from the sergeant to the 
sentries to present arms, and a great display of 
military stiffness on the part of Bob’s guard, who 
seemed to be lingering about the premises for the 
privilege of saluting a second time. Bob drew a 
sigh of relief when the major’s sword had clanked 
itself out of ear-shot along the barracks, devoutly 
hoping he would not make long visits in the quarters 
of the humbler prisoners. He felt sure they would 
agree with him that the less seen of the Herr Major 
the better. 

He dropped down on the stool, now restored to his 
own use, and sat wondering drearily how on earth 
he could pass the time in any degree of cheerfulness. 
He regretted now not having gone outdoors while 
he had the chance, and decided that he must adopt 
indoor exercises at once if his health was not to 
suffer from the unnatural confinement. Getting 
up an appetite, though, was certainly a thing to be 
avoided. Bob’s thoughts of the future were dim 
and purposeless, and he did his best just now to 
keep them so. He greatly hoped he would not 
realize the depth of his misfortune, and that the 
half incredulous state of mind that made him live 
on from moment to moment, as though his imprison¬ 
ment were something strange and passing, might 
last a little longer. One ray of comfort he had, 
and he clung to it when despair seemed very near 
229 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


him. Solitude was the thing he most dreaded, and 
Captain Bertrand’s friendly presence had been like 
a ray of light out of utter darkness. Bob had al¬ 
ways had an affectionate family or cheerful friends 
around him. He did not know how to live alone 
and could hardly have risen above the utter de¬ 
pression of it. In thinking of the young French¬ 
man’s brave calmness he found more courage to face 
things than he had thought he possessed. 

The guard had locked his door, and Bob par¬ 
ticularly wanted to find out about the canteen the 
hospitable Commandant had spoken of. He took 
out his money from the inside pocket lining of his 
blouse where it was hidden, and counted it care¬ 
fully. He had just forty francs. The ten he had 
given to the old peasant would have been welcome 
now, but he did not regret them. 

As the morning wore on, and the door remained 
locked, Bob’s active body demanded movement of 
some kind. He tried a balancing performance with 
the stool, vaulted over the low table, went through 
the manual of arms without a gun, and had a fenc¬ 
ing bout with an imaginary sword and opponent. 
Then, his invention failing him, he dropped down 
on his stool again and resumed his principal occupa¬ 
tion of the past two days—wondering. He won¬ 
dered what time dinner was, and if it would be more 
substantial than breakfast. Anyway he had the 
230 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


promise of food at the canteen to look forward to. 
He wondered if writing materials could be bought 
there, too, and, if so, whether a letter from here 
would ever reach the outside world through the 
Commandant’s hands. He remembered that he 
had not asked Bertrand in what part of Prussia they 
were. The name of some near-by city might be 
more familiar to him than the town outside the 
camp. He could not understand why Bertrand had 
been kept there when the other officers were trans¬ 
ferred, but he was very thankful for his own sake 
that it had been so. 

After a long while the door was unlocked, to the 
accompanying sounds of the prisoners forming in 
ranks outside the barrack, and his guard appeared 
with the same steaming basin that had held the 
acorn coffee at breakfast. As he put it down on 
the table and turned to leave, Bob plunged into 
German. “ I go,” he began, pointing emphatically 
across the yard, the word canteen not being at his 
command, “ get bread.” 

The soldier looked puzzled, curious, and finally a 
light broke over his heavy countenance. He nodded 
and went out, saying something in reply which Bob 
did not understand, but in which the word “ ser¬ 
geant ” occurred. 

Becoming resigned by now to patient waiting, 
Bob sat down to find what he had for dinner. So 
231 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


far as he could make out with the help of the metal 
spoon, the bowl held a kind of cabbage soup, with 
a few shreds of vegetables lurking near the bottom. 
It did not look inviting, but he was much too hungry 
to be critical, and he emptied the bowl in five min¬ 
utes, finding the soup not bad, with another chunk 
of black bread to accompany it. The chief trouble 
was there was not enough of it. He could have 
eaten a whole dinner afterward without any trouble. 
At thought of the people at home who would so 
gladly send him money and supplies if only they 
could reach him, he resolved to try hard to get them 
some news of his whereabouts. 

Soon after he finished eating, the sergeant with 
the bristling eyebrows appeared, announcing that 
he had come to conduct the lieutenant to the can¬ 
teen. 

Bob got up with alacrity, put on his helmet and 
heavy coat, and followed his guide out into the cold 
air, along the wire lane past the watchful sentry, 
who turned and followed in their wake. Bob was 
mildly amused at the idea of his attempting to 
escape. He had about as much chance as if he were 
a wild animal in an iron cage, and would have re¬ 
ceived just as cordial a welcome throughout Prussia. 
Whichever way he turned his eyes met lines of high 
wire fencing, or the glistening bayonets of the sen¬ 
tries patrolling the camp in every direction. 

232 


AND LIEUTENANT 'BOB 

The canteen was no more than a room just off tlie 
kitchen, fitted with shelves stocked with goods. A. 
corporal in charge was seated behind a table. He 
rose at sight of a customer and made the usual slight 
bow, after a glance at Bob’s shoulder-straps. Bob 
saw but a scant display of eatables on the shelves* 
but after a careful inspection he selected two cans 
of herring, a small loaf of black bread to supplement 
his two days’ ration, and a jar of strange looking 
yellow marmalade. For these luxuries he paid 
three francs and felt that his captors had got the 
best of it. 

The bargain concluded, the sergeant led him 
promptly back across the yard, where several hun¬ 
dred prisoners had gathered, carrying picks and 
shovels, and evidently starting out for an after¬ 
noon’s work. Bob almost wished he might join 
them as he looked keenly around, trying to see if 
the companions of his journey from Petit-Bois were 
there. Two big Russians, looking about them with 
mild, patient eyes as they leaned upon their tools, 
stood close by the wire netting, and, as Bob passed 
by, a Frenchman pushed his head in between their 
shoulders with a friendly smile in his direction and 
a nod of recognition. Bob longed to stop and ask 
him how the wounded men were faring, and what 
sort of treatment they were receiving, but the in¬ 
exorable sentry dogged his steps, and a nod and 
233 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

smile in return was all the communication pos¬ 
sible. 

There were no writing materials on sale at the 
canteen, so Bob demanded some of the sergeant. 
In answer he merely promised to obtain them from 
the Commandant, and Bob foresaw another delay. 

After this short diversion he paced his floor rest¬ 
lessly until dark, which brought with it the guard, 
carrying another bowl of coffee, and a welcome 
armful of wood. The soldier lighted the lamp and 
went out, leaving the door open. In a second Bob 
swallowed the decoction in the bowl, hurriedly 
made his way out and approached his neighbor’s 
door. It was closed, but yielded to his touch, and 
saying softly, “ May I come in, Captain? ” he put 
his head through the crack. 

The room was dimly lighted and looked much the 
same as Bob’s own. The cot was pulled like his 
before the feeble fire, and on it lay the French 
officer, who raised his head at sight of Bob to say 
warmly, though with little strength in his voice, 
“ Come in, comrade! ” 

Bob closed the door behind him, overcome with 
pity and a dreadful feeling of helplessness at sight 
of Bertrand’s long, thin figure shivering beneath the 
flimsy blankets. “ You are ill. Captain? What 
can I do? ” he stammered. 

Then, realizing that Bertrand was in the clutches 
234 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

of a chill, and in no state to answer questions, he 
steadied his nerves and took things into his own 
hands with energy. 

“ You’ve eaten nothing,” he said, looking at the 
bowl of coffee which the guard had placed on the 
stool beside the cot. “ This is hot, at least.” He 
broke a few crumbs of bread from the loaf on the 
stool into the steaming bowl and, raising Bertrand’s 
shivering shoulders, put a spoonful to his lips. 
“ Take it anyway, it will warm you,” he urged, 
finally persuading the sick man to swallow a few 
spoonfuls, after which he tucked the blankets about 
him and built up the flickering fire. 

“ Wait a minute,” he said presently, rising and 
darting to the door again. In a moment he was 
back, bringing one of his own blankets, which he 
wrapped around Bertrand’s shaking body with 
anxious thoroughness. 

“ Your blanket? ” faltered Bertrand, as his fit of 
shivering slowly lessened. “ You must not give 
me that! This will pass in a few moments. It al¬ 
ways comes before the fever.” 

“ I have enough,” said Bob, raising a spoonful 
of coffee again to Bertrand’s lips. “ Drink all this 
now, can’t you? I’ve heated it at the fire, and it 
will help keep you warm. I am going to find a 
doctor for you, if it’s humanly possible.” 

“ He comes now and then,” said Bertrand, rais- 
235 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


ing himself to drink the hot liquid obediently * 
though his breath came quick and hard as he spoke. 
“ It was he who would not have me moved the day 
the other French officers were transferred. You 
had better go now, comrade. The guard will not 
leave the door unlocked again if the sergeant dis¬ 
covers it.” 

Bob nodded, looking with anxious eyes at Ber¬ 
trand’s face, now losing its pallor for a flush, as no 
longer trembling, he lay wearily motionless. Bob 
renewed the fire again as well as he could, and 
readjusted the blankets, took an unwilling leave, 
only consoled at seeing that the chill had passed and 
that Bertrand seemed inclined to sleep. 

At his own door he encountered the guard who, 
by the light of the lantern he held, looked sullenly 
at his enterprising American prisoner and rattled 
the keys suggestively. Bob gave him no time to 
voice his displeasure, but on entering the room said 
in such German as he could muster: 

“ Where is the doctor? When can he come 
here? ” 

The soldier looked dubious, and muttered that he 
did not know. 

Bob’s anger was swiftly rising at this brutal 
neglect of poor Bertrand. He turned savagely on 
the guard. “Go and find out!” he shouted, in 
execrable German, but in a voice that roused the 
236 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


echo of obedience to authority in the soldier’s dull 
mind. He went out more quickly than Bob had 
ever seen him move before. In a moment he was 
back again, and the sergeant with him. Bob re¬ 
peated his demand, but got no more satisfaction 
than the assurance that, “ The Herr Doctor will 
certainly be here to-morrow.” 

“ If he isn’t, you will take me to the Com¬ 
mandant,” he declared in a burst of righteous in¬ 
dignation. “ And now,” he added, a cold blast 
from the door reminding him of his own need, “ I 
want another blanket. I gave one of mine to Cap¬ 
tain Bertrand.” 

Not all of this speech was comprehensible to the 
sergeant, for Bob’s German was very strange in¬ 
deed, and all the words he did not know were sup¬ 
plemented by French or English terms. But the 
blanket request he did understand and seemed 
highly doubtful about being able to grant. “ I will 
try, Herr Lieutenant,” was the most he would say, 
and a moment later Bob was left alone. 

He went to bed in his overcoat, wrapped in his 
single blanket, for he had no hope of receiving a 
second one that night. The little fire that blew 
hither and thither, in the wind that rushed down 
the chimney, could not keep him from shivering, 
but after a while he went to sleep. 

When morning dawned Bob got up to the sound 
237 


CAPTAIN LUCT 

of hundreds of clattering boots, and throwing off 
his overcoat, went through some brisk exercises for 
half an hour until his chilled blood ran warm again. 
While he did it he came to a resolution in behalf of 
the unfortunate Frenchman lying sick and solitary 
next door, and although he had little hope of gain¬ 
ing any favors from the Commandant or his sub¬ 
ordinates, he resolved to make the effort. Defiance 
was his only weapon, a poor enough one since he was 
helpless in his captors’ hands, but it had already 
achieved more with his guard than had politeness. 
Anyway, he felt that his angry feelings must find 
expression somehow. 

He struggled to make the fire burn until the sol¬ 
dier entered with his coffee. No more bread was 
yet forthcoming, though thanks to his visit to the 
canteen, Bob still had a little. He turned to the 
guard, getting up from his seat on the cot before 
the fire. “ Where is my blanket? ” he demanded. 

The man muttered something about the matter 
having been referred to the Commandant. 

“llats!” ejaculated Bob, thrusting his hands 
deep in his trousers pockets and staring disgustedly 
at the guard’s heavy red face. 

The soldier’s little blue eyes lighted up with a 
vague alarm. He evidently felt the American to 
be an unknown quantity, of whom anything might 
be expected. Bob had already noticed furtive 
238 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


glances cast at him, as though sudden violence on 
his part was not unlikely. He felt decidedly like 
realizing the guard’s suspicions now. 

“ Go get the sergeant,” he said at last, speaking 
more calmly. 

When the man had gone Bob took the oppor¬ 
tunity to visit Bertrand, whom he found asleep with 
his untasted breakfast beside him, the blankets 
tossed about his cot bearing witness to a troubled 
night. Bob touched his hand and felt it hot and 
dry. He went softly out and found the sergeant 
awaiting him. 

“ Where is the doctor? ” was Bob’s first in¬ 
quiry. 

“ He will come,” the sergeant assured him, with 
such certainty that Bob felt there was some reason 
to believe him. 

He pointed across to the canteen, saying firmly, 
“ I will buy a blanket now.” 

No objection was raised to this, and he decided 
that it was probably just what was expected of him. 
At the canteen he found a small stock of thin, gray 
blankets, one of which he bought, reluctantly pay¬ 
ing for it twelve francs out of his remaining thirty- 
seven. He bought, also, for seven more francs, a 
cotton shirt, a razor, and another loaf of bread. 

As they recrossed the yard twenty minutes later, 
through the midst of a crowd of Russians, Bob saw 
239 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


an officer coming out of Bertrand’s room. He 
quickened his steps on the sergeant’s informing him 
that this was the Herr Doctor who had come as 
promised. Bob met him in the narrow space before 
the barrack and spoke eagerly, after a quick bow of 
salutation, which the other gravely returned. 

“ Captain Bertrand—do you think he is any 
better? ” 

The military doctor surrendered the leather case 
he carried to an orderly who followed him and 
looked attentively at Bob, seeming more struck by 
his atrocious German than by what he had said. 
He was a gray-haired, shrewd-looking man, with a 
quiet, self-contained manner. In a moment he said 
in English: 

“ I can speak English a little. What would you 
say?” 

Bob answered, with great relief at the loosening 
of his tongue, “ I wish to ask you about Captain 
Bertrand. He seems very ill. Is there nothing 
that can be done for him? He has no care at all— 
I don’t understand it.” Bob’s indignation got a 
little the better of him. His face flushed and his 
voice hardened. 

The doctor nodded. “ He should be transferred 
to a hospital. But with present difficulties it may 
two or three weeks take.” 

“ Well, have you left him anything? Any 
240 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


quinine? I could give it to him in whatever doses 
you prescribe.” 

The doctor glanced keenly at the eager young 
American. His face seemed to say that Bob spoke 
without knowing all the facts. “ I have left a 
little—yes,” he assented. “ Enough is not to be 
had.” 

Bob struggled with his feelings, uncertain 
whether the doctor’s calmness was callous indif¬ 
ference or if he were simply doing his best with 
inadequate supplies and help. He thought he 
detected a little regret and human interest in his 
voice, in speaking of Bertrand’s sad case, but the 
German was not disposed to be communicative. 
He seemed ready to move away now, but Bob took 
a sudden resolution. 

“ At least, doctor, you can obtain permission for 
me to sleep in Captain Bertrand’s room and look 
after him until the fever goes. It is cruel to leave 
him alone with no help or companionship. Let me 
take care of him until you can arrange for his 
transfer.” 

The doctor thought silently for a moment. “ I 
can see no objection to that,” he said at last. “ I 
will do it, if possible it is.” 

He nodded in a not unfriendly way, and walked 
quickly off, leaving Bob saying to himself in doubt¬ 
ful irritation, “ Will you really do it, or just say 
241 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


you will do it, like the others? ” He had somewhat 
more confidence in this man than in the other Ger¬ 
mans about him, for he felt that a doctor’s fellow- 
feeling extends with his profession beyond the 
borders of his own country, though he judged only 
by the French and British and American doctors he 
had seen among the enemy’s wounded. 

When he reached the door of his room the ser¬ 
geant was standing by his table, and at sight of 
him Bob’s spirits gave a sudden bound. On the 
table were laid some sheets of paper, envelopes, 
half a dozen post-cards, a few stamps and a pencil. 
The sergeant took note of the amount on his 
fingers and after a hasty calculation said, “ Two 
francs, Herr Lieutenant.” 

Bob produced them, desperately eager for the 
chance to write, however hopeless such an attempt 
might be. But first he took advantage of the re¬ 
maining free moments to visit Bertrand’s room. 
The Frenchman was sitting on his cot, looking 
spent and weary, but at sight of Bob he smiled and 
held out his hand. 

“ My friend, you must take back your blanket,” 
he said earnestly, as Bob approached the cot and sat 
down beside him. “ I did not think last night when 
you so generously left it.” 

Bob reassured him on that score, and hastily told 
of his interview with the doctor, and of the hope 
242 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

* 

he felt of being allowed to sleep in Bertrand’s room* 
This seemed to afford the sick man great comfort. 
He silently shook Bob’s hand with a grateful look 
that told more than words of the lonely misery he 
had suffered. His fever had gone down, though 
his thin face was still flushed and his eyes over- 
bright. Bob heated over the fire the coffee left from 
breakfast and made him drink it, though he could 
not be persuaded to eat the hard bread. Bob’s own 
stores of herring and pumpkin-seed marmalade 
were alike useless. He resolved to ransack the 
canteen again for something palatable, for Bertrand 
was rapidly losing strength on his meagre diet. 

Bob did not dare lead him to count on having 
his company at night until permission was assured. 
But he felt, when he left him, that even the hope 
had brought a little cheerfulness into the unfor¬ 
tunate officer’s long day, which he must pass lying 
spent with fever in his lonely prison. Bob wanted 
to ask him if his letters had been answered, and 
what chance there was of receiving news from home 
or of sending it there, but he was afraid of awaken¬ 
ing unhappy thoughts, and decided to postpone his 
questions until Bertrand’s fever should have en¬ 
tirely gone. 

Pie sat down at his own table, after the doors 
were locked again, and slowly took up the indelible 
pencil lying on the paper before him, with a sad 
243 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


look coming over his face. Longings for Home and 
freedom wrenched his heart now as he thought of 
what to write, and the hopelessness of trying to say 
anything, since all must pass under the eyes of the 
Commandant, made him lay down his pencil almost 
in despair. But to assure his family that he was 
alive and well was his greatest wish, and he felt a 
reasonable hope of having this much sent on. 

At last he chose the post-cards, and writing the 
brief news that he was well, a prisoner in Germany, 
and sent his love to all at home, he addressed three 
of them to his mother, his father and to Lucy, hop¬ 
ing that one of the three might find its way in time 
to Governor’s Island. Considering the difficult 
and roundabout means of transportation, coupled 
with little willingness on the part of his captors to 
fulfil the prisoners’ wishes, he saw, as he thought 
it over again, that the chances were slim. 

As he wrote Lucy’s name her face came before 
him, as she had looked when he said good-bye to her 
three months before. Her eyes were bright with 
tears, but she was bravely smiling, and he could 
hear her voice again, gay and cheerful, but with a 
world of tender affection behind it as she said, 
“ We’ll never stop thinking of you! ” 

He knew she never had, and the constant 
thoughts of those who waited for him were the 
source of more courage than they knew, now that 
244 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Bob in his loneliness had such need of courage. But 
he felt, just then, he would give anything on earth 
for the sight of one familiar face among the stran¬ 
gers about him, of whom only Bertrand and the 
French soldier prisoner had given him the grateful 
tribute of a friendly glance. Few wishes were 
granted in that prison camp, but at this time of 
strange happenings Bob’s wish was nearer fulfil¬ 
ment than he dreamed. 

Dinner was no more substantial than yesterday’s, 
but Bob helped it out with a pickled herring. While 
he was eating it without enthusiasm, a vision of 
Karl’s cream-puffs, as they had so often come, at 
Bob’s special request, puffy, round and inviting, 
to the Gordons’ table, made him smile with a touch 
of irony. It would be hard work persuading Karl 
to make him any now, supposing the two met' 
again. 

In the afternoon, the sergeant brought him the 
welcome news that he would be permitted to sleep 
in Bertrand’s room. Eager to make sure of the 
privilege, Bob asked to have his cot moved immedi¬ 
ately, and two soldiers carried it into the next room 
at the sergeant’s orders. Bob stood in his door¬ 
way while this was going on, looking curiously at a 
little group of what he guessed, from the numerous 
guards about them, to be newly-arrived prisoners, 
though they were too far off to be distinguished. 

245 


CAPTAIN LUCT 

He asked his guard who they were, without expect¬ 
ing a satisfactory answer, for the soldier was always 
non-committal, whether from natural sullenness or 
in obedience to orders, Bob could not decide. But 
this time his eyes brightened at the question, and 
after glancing down toward the further barracks 
which the men had entered, he gave Bob a queer 
look and said, “ American prisoners.” 

“ What! ” Bob’s self-control was gone for a mo¬ 
ment. He stared at the man in blank amazement. 

The guard nodded, adding with a kind of triumph 
in his voice, “ Eleven were brought in this morn- 
ing.” 

That was the extent of his information, but Bob 
pondered it most of the night, while he kept alive 
the fire and tended his feverish companion, whose 
greatest comfort it seemed was to know Bob’s 
friendly presence close at hand. 

In the morning he went out the moment the door 
was unlocked, leaving his wretched coffee untasted. 
A light snow had fallen during the night, and the 
air was cold and sparkling, with the sun just risen. 
This was the hour when all the prisoners crossed 
the yard for breakfast. He searched hundreds of 
faces, French and Russian, before at last a little 
knot of downcast United States infantrymen came 
by, soup basins in hand. Some of them were 
wounded. Bob’s heart beat hard and his eyes 
246 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

filled with hot tears of sympathy and comradeship. 
He could hardly see their faces, but all at once a 
hand was thrust through the wire netting beside 
him, and a voice trembling with excitement cried, 
“ Bob Gordon! ” 

Bob stared through the netting with misty, un¬ 
believing eyes. 

“ Lieutenant, I meant to say,” stammered Ser¬ 
geant Cameron, as Bob, too overcome at the sight 
of him to answer, clasped his outstretched hand. 

“ We won, though,” the sergeant said in his ear, 
in the instant before his hand was withdrawn to 
resume the march across the yard, and those words 
echoed in Bob’s ears above the noisy orders of the 
German guards ordering on the men, who, one and 
all, had paused to watch the meeting between the 
two Americans with friendly, understanding eyes. 

The prisoners were from his father’s regiment. 
This was the thought uppermost in Bob’s mind. 
But they had won the fight ! 5 


247 


CHAPTER XIV 


A LETTER FROM LONDON 

Marie had taken William and Happy over be¬ 
yond the infantry quarters to watch the afternoon 
drill. The sight of those hard-working young re¬ 
cruits, treading so resolutely the snow-packed 
ground, seemed to have a fascination for the Bel¬ 
gian girl. She would watch them for long 
moments, with serious, earnest eyes, as though in 
the strength and readiness of America’s growing 
army she saw the distant promise of freedom for 
her native land. 

The drill was a good one, and the soldiers marched 
with the trained precision of seasoned troops. They 
had done well in the weeks past. Lucy saw a 
staff colonel, walking by, give a quick nod of ap¬ 
proval in their direction. The four girls who 
studied and played together had come from the 
Officers’ Club, after a hard game of bowls, to join 
the little crowd which had gathered to watch the 
drill with the intentness that came of knowing how 
sorely every trained man was needed now. 

248 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

Marian was talking eagerly to Anne about the 
first-aid class. It was Friday and the next morn-’ 
ing’s lesson would be the third in the course, and 
already the girls felt that they began to know some¬ 
thing about nursing. Marian had lost all fear of 
Miss Thomas and her demands, and at the last 
lesson had willingly been wrapped in bandages of 
every sort, to demonstrate the neat work of her 
teacher s skilful fingers. 

“ It’s lots more interesting making Red Cross 
dressings when you know how they are used,” she 
said to Anne. “ The nursing is much the hardest 
part for me. I still get awfully mixed some¬ 
times.” 

“ That’s the part I like best,” said Lucy, her 
eyes still following the marching men, who were 
executing a difficult turn. “ I like taking care of 
sick people anyway.” 

“ Too bad you aren’t old enough to be a nurse,” 
remarked Julia. She was looking apprehensively 
at her puppy as William came toward them. 
“ Then maybe you’d have patients more graceful 
than I am.” She laughed at the recollection of 
some of Lucy’s energetic treatments. 

“ I spilled the water down your neck only once,” 
objected Lucy indignantly; “you know we got 
along beautifully last time.” 

“ I know it,” admitted Julia. “ I can’t do it 
249 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


nearly so well as you, myself. Oh, look at that 
little beast! ” 

Happy came careering up, as William and Marie 
started for home, and began a friendly tussle with 
his brother, who had a quieter disposition and had 
stayed obediently at Julia’s side. 

“ Oh, behave, Happy! ” cried Lucy, making an 
ineffectual grab in his direction. “ You certainly 
picked out the bad one to give us, Julia, or else 
William brings him up badly. Two mittens and a 
glove of Fathers have gone this week.” 

“ I’ll take him, Lucy,” said William, rushing to 
the rescue, in terror as usual when the puppies were 
together, of getting them mixed up beyond recog¬ 
nition, since they grew too fast to make the wear¬ 
ing of collars possible. “ This one’s mine,” he de¬ 
clared, seizing his puppy and carrying him off, a 
squirming, indignant armful. 

“ Poor little Mac always gets the worst of it,” 
said Julia laughing. “ He isn’t the fighting kind. 
Let’s let William get ahead a little before we go, so 
as to keep the peace.” 

“You and Anne come to our house and we’ll go 
over the first-aid lesson for to-morrow now. It’s 
much easier when we do it together,” suggested 
Lucy, as they walked back across the parade. 

“ All right, we will,” said Julia. “ Stop with me, 
Anne, while I get my book, and then we’ll come 
250 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


right over. I bet Marian is in a hurry to get home 
out of the cold.” 

Marian laughed, but she willingly joined Lucy 
in running over to General’s Row, when they came 
within sight of the Gordons’ house. 

“ Cousin James came home early to-day,” she 
said, as they went up the steps, for she had spied 
Major Gordon’s tall figure walking quickly from 
Headquarters as they crossed the parade. 

“ Did he? ” asked Lucy, opening the door. “ I 
hope he doesn’t have to go off somewhere to-night.” 

Then, as she entered the sitting-room, her heart 
gave a dreadful throb, and she stood speechless on 
the threshold. Her mother was standing by the 
window. Her face was ashy pale, and tears were 
running down her cheeks, while she listened with 
motionless intensity to her husband’s words. 
Major Gordon, still wearing his overcoat, was 
speaking low and earnestly. His face was turned 
from the door, but his head was bent and one of his 
hands gripped hard on the chair behind him. 

“ Mother! Father! What is it? Is it Bob?” 
cried Lucy, all her courage forgotten and a dreadful 
fear clutching at her heart that made her voice 
break and her strength almost fail her. She seized 
her father’s arm and looked with terrified question¬ 
ing into his face. 

“ Yes, little daughter, it is,” said her father 

251 


CAPTAIN LUCT 

gently. His face was white, too, and he looked 
tired and worn. 

“ Tell me, what is it? ” Lucy whispered. 

“ We don’t know. All they have heard at Wash¬ 
ington is that he never returned from his last scout¬ 
ing expedition. I telegraphed for any more de¬ 
tails they could give me, but the Adjutant General 
has sent back word that he knows nothing more. 
We must hope for the best.” 

Lucy drew her hand away, and turning, threw 
her arms around her mother’s neck, vainly trying to 
check the sobs that choked her and the tears that 
blinded her eyes. She could not speak a word of 
comfort, but perhaps her mother felt, as she held 
her, what she would have said, if words had not been 
quite beyond her. 

Marian stole out to meet Julia and Anne before 
they reached the door. Her eyes were wet, too, and 
her heart throbbed with a sympathy that took her 
far from herself to a new depth of understand¬ 
ing. 

At last Lucy raised her head, dashing the tears 
from her hot cheeks. “ Mr. Harding could find 
out something! ” she cried, her voice trembling with 
a bitter rebellion against this dreadful uncertainty. 
“ He was so near to Bob, surely he will send us 
word of whatever he knows! ” 

Major Gordon shook his head with a sad stem- 
252 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


ness. “ Don’t blame him, little daughter. The 
same dispatches that brought this news reported 
Dick wounded and missing, after a German raid on 
our first line trenches.” 

Lucy could stand there no longer. She ran 
blindly out and up to her own room, where she sank 
down on her little sofa and buried her face among 
the pillows. 

In the dark days which followed, Marian was 
Lucy’s greatest comfort. Lucy would not say all 
she feared or even all she hoped to her mother, who 
had enough to bear without any bursts of unhappi¬ 
ness or groundless hopefulness on Lucy’s part. 
But Marian listened with quiet and helpful sym¬ 
pathy in the hours when Lucy’s patience and 
courage utterly gave way, and sleep refused to 
come. 

The whole garrison shared the Gordons’ trouble, 
and in the friendly spirit of comradeship which 
unites our army, all the people tried to show their 
heartfelt sympathy. Mrs. Houston brought her 
Red Cross work to Mrs. Gordon’s, and the two 
women sat for long hours together, making whole 
boxes of slings and dressings, for work was more 
bearable than idleness. Major Gordon found it so, 
too, for he kept at his duties until late at night, and 
seemed to find nothing else worth doing. 

Lucy and Marian went as usual to school, though 
253 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


Lucy could not learn her lessons and Miss Ellis did 
not reproach her. She was thankful, though, to be 
among other girls for a while, and away from the 
misery of her own thoughts. In the fortnight that 
had gone by since Bob was reported missing Lucy 
seemed to have passed through a year of her life, 
and, grown strangely quiet and purposeless, she 
followed Marian’s suggestions without a murmur. 
She took the change in her cousin with no more than 
a vague surprise at her independence. She and 
her mother only felt that Marian’s cheerful pres¬ 
ence was a comfort, and her affectionate un¬ 
derstanding of Lucy’s grief promised to make 
of the two girls firm and devoted friends for ever 
after. 

One day at noon Lucy came into the house with 
Marian to find her mother and father again to¬ 
gether. Only this time her mother’s face, lately so 
pale and sad, was touched with a gleam of her old 
brightness. Almost a smile hovered over her lips, 
and at sight of it Lucy sprang forward, crying, 
“ What is it, Mother? Oh, tell me quick! ” 

Major Gordon did not look altogether cheerful 
as he turned to her, but his face was brave and 
hopeful. 

“Don’t expect too much,” he said slowly, but 
Mrs. Gordon put a hand on Lucy’s shoulders with 
a smile that brought a flood of joy to her heart. 

254 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

“ He’s alive and unhurt, Lucy,” she said, Her 
voice trembling. “ Read this.” 

A letter had lain on the table, and now Lucy 
snatched it from her mother’s hand. With her 
heart pounding in her throat she dropped down on 
the floor, oblivious to all about her. 

The writing was strange, and, stranger still, the 
letter was postmarked London. With shaky fin¬ 
gers Lucy drew out two sheets of ruled paper, 
covered with a neat, legible writing. She turned 
quickly to the signature. It was: 

John Enright, 

Corporal Ninth Lancashires, 
By Nurse Everitt. 

Amazed, Lucy found the beginning and read: 

St. Anthony’s Hospital, 

London 

December 5th . 

Mrs. James Gordon, 

Dear Madam: No doubt you are wondering 
what I can have to say to you, as we are strangers to 
each other, so perhaps the best way for me to begin 
is by explaining just how I came to write. 

I may say that I am a Corporal in the Ninth Lan¬ 
cashire regiment of foot, and, up to my being 
wounded and sent home from France last week, I 
have fought at a point where our lines touch with 
255 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


the French and Americans. I would tell you the 
exact spot, but this is not allowed. There was an 
advance made here a short time ago, in which we 
reenforced them, resulting in the capture of a 
French village which the Germans had fortified 
with no end of care. It appears that some aviator 
managed to send back news of their new line by 
carrier pigeon, and this information helped us con¬ 
siderably. Anyway, we occupied the place, and, 
to make it short, I was stopped with a bullet in my 
leg just before the Germans fell back. 

In the house where some women of the village 
helped the doctors care for the wounded, I was 
nursed by a woman who spoke English almost as 
well as anybody. She was German, she said, but 
in spite of that she was a good sort, and she sat all 
night with me when I was pretty near wild with a 
broken knee. 

Next day but one I was recommended to be 
sent home, but before I left the village she asked 
me to do something for her as soon as I got back to 
England. Of course I was glad to pay for some of 
her kindness, if I could. She asked me to write to 
America, to Mrs. James Gordon, whose name and 
address she gave me on a paper, and tell her that 
her son was alive and not wounded, but a prisoner 
in Germany. 

Being willing to do a good turn for a friend, and 
ally, as well as to pay the German woman for her 
care of me, I am writing at first opportunity. That 
is as much as I can remember that she said, for I 
was feeling too badly to think much, except to won¬ 
der at her, a German, asking me this. So hoping 
256 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

you will excuse the liberty,' and with best wishes* I 
remain, 

Yours truly, 

John Enright, 
Corporal Ninth Lancashires. 
By Nurse Everitt. 

Lucy did not read the last sentences of the kindly 
Englishman’s letter. Warm tears were pouring 
down her cheeks, tears of relief and thankfulness, 
that, however hard the burden left to bear, they 
knew that Bob’s life was spared. She repeated 
Elizabeth’s name with wondering gratitude, for 
Elizabeth it must have been who had given the sol¬ 
dier such a charge. For a moment joy was the 
only feeling in her heart, and the thought of Ger¬ 
man imprisonment did not bring the fear and dread 
that came afterward. 

There was only quiet rejoicing in the Gordon 
household, for Bob’s fate seemed yet darkly uncer¬ 
tain, but hope there was plentiful room for, and 
with it came returning strength and courage to face 
the inevitable. 

Mrs. Gordon could not wait to write her grati¬ 
tude to the British soldier, who even in the midst 
of his own suffering had not failed to do a kindness. 
To Elizabeth she could only speak her thanks un¬ 
heard, for the faithful affection which had given 
back at last far more than she owed her mistress for 
257 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


years of happy companionship. The extent of her 
debt to Elizabeth, Mrs. Gordon did not know, but 
for as much as she did, it was hard indeed not to 
be able to make an acknowledgment. 

That afternoon when William was sitting on his 
mother’s lap, listening with wide-eyed astonishment 
to her story of his brother, Mrs. Gordon turned a 
little anxiously at sight of Marian, who had come to 
her side to bring back the wonderful letter over 
which she had in turn been poring. 

“ Marian,” she said, “ I don’t think we’ve taken 
very good care of you lately. I am afraid you must 
feel we haven’t thought much about you.” She 
searched her little cousin’s face with self-reproach¬ 
ful eyes, but found it, to her relief, well and rosy. 

Marian laughed, and sitting down on the arm of 
Mrs. Gordon’s chair, gave her an affectionate kiss. 
“ You needn’t worry about me, Cousin Sally. I 
don’t need half the looking after I used to. Any¬ 
way, Father will be along some day soon.” 

Mrs. Gordon looked thoughtfully at Marian, as 
she had not looked at her in the past two weeks, 
feeling a touch of pleasure in the midst of her heavy 
anxiety. Marian’s dress had been carefully let out 
across the shoulders, but even now it was none too 
big for her. The look of discontent and indecision 
had left her face. Her once pale cheeks had a 
warm color, and her smiling lips had lost their baby- 

258 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

ish suggestion of a pout. She had tied hack her 
hair well out of the way before school, and her man¬ 
ner, though diffident still and far from boisterous, 
had caught more than a little of Lucy’s alertness 
and energy. Her prettiness had changed its 
pathetic wistfulness for a wide-awake look far more 
attractive, and Mrs. Gordon saw plainly now that 
the friendship between Marian and Lucy, at which 
she had sometimes wondered a little, was very likely 
to endure. 

Lucy was up-stairs talking to Marie, who was 
putting William’s room in order. Both Margaret 
and Marie, in spite of their never having seen Bob, 
had shown a warm-hearted sympathy with the Gor¬ 
dons’ trouble. But Marie had a far greater under¬ 
standing of it, having known what the war meant 
by actual experience, and Lucy had found her one 
day standing in front of Bob’s picture in the sitting- 
room, with a sad look in her serious, dark eyes. 
Marie had helped wonderfully during those hard 
days. She had kept William happy and occupied 
when nobody else had spirits enough to play with! 
him, and had done a hundred little things without 
being told, which took away the burden of them 
from her mistress’ shoulders. Lucy had lost no 
time in telling her of the good news in the soldier’s 
letter, confident that she would sincerely share in 
their rejoicing. 


259 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

It seemed to Lucy, though, that the thought of a 
German prison kept the Belgian girl from feeling 
much enthusiasm in her relief at Bob’s safety. 
Perhaps her own misgivings made her fearful, but 
she questioned Marie anxiously. 

“ He’s safe there, Marie, don’t you think so? 
It’s dreadfully hard—but I do hope we’ll be able to 
send him things.” 

“ Oh, yes, he is safe, Miss Lucy,” Marie assured 
her hastily. She was a truthful girl, but Lucy’s 
pleading face would not let her speak otherwise 
just now. 

“ He’s away from the battle-field. It seems as 
if the greatest danger had been left behind. If we 
could only find out where he is! I’m sure he can 
write us before long.” 

“ I think so, yes,” said Marie hopefully, her 
troubled conscience reminding her as she spoke of 
friends and neighbors from her home whose fate in 
Germany no one had ever learned. 

“ Lots of prisoners come back, even during the 
war—wounded ones I mean,” Lucy went on. “ I 
suppose being a prisoner of war isn’t really the 
worst thing that can happen to you.” Somehow, 
Marie’s hopeful words did not cheer her as they 
were intended to. 

“ Yes, many have come back,” Marie responded 
briefly. Her invention failed her here, for once she 
260 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


had seen a train filled with French and Belgian pris¬ 
oners returned after a year’s captivity, as it passed 
the Swiss frontier. The sight of those haggard and 
weary faces had never left her memory. At last 
she offered Lucy the only solution that seemed 
possible to her. 

“ Miss Lucy, if only America get ready quick and 
go to help fight. That is how we will have the war 
over. Nobody will have a free country while Ger¬ 
many is strong.” 

“ I know it,” Lucy sighed, feeling for the moment 
weighed down by a burden beyond her strength. 
The night of the Twenty-Eighth’s departure came 
suddenly back to her. “ Poor Mr. Harding,” she 
thought, struck with sharp remorse at the little time 
she had found to lament her friend’s misfortune. 
“But he may be safe as well as Bob—oh, how I 
wish we knew.” 

Marie finished her work and turned to Lucy, 
with a sudden smile lighting up her quiet face. 
“ You must hope all is right with your brother. It 
is no use to fear. Good news may come.” 

“ I wish it would hurry, then,” Lucy murmured, 
getting up from her seat on William’s bed. “ I’m 
thankful for what we’ve heard, but if only we 
weren’t so far away. The Belgians haven’t 
an ocean between them and Germany. It is 
only as if their brothers were taken prisoners 
261 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

info Connecticut—supposing they lived in New 
York.” 

“ Yes, but the Germans they have there on top 
of them,” said Marie quickly. “ They would be 
very glad to have that ocean.” 

As never before Lucy realized how much of the 
war’s meaning Marie knew. She felt that the quiet 
Belgian girl could tell her more of Bob’s captors 
than could many about her, but somehow she was 
not eager to ask questions. She knew that Marie 
would have told her all that was pleasant to hear 
without asking. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Marian, who 
came to the door with her tam-o’-shanter on, and 
her coat half buttoned. 

“ Aren’t you coming out a little while, Lucy? 
Let’s go over to the Houstons’. I need my exer¬ 
cise,” she added, with a mischievous curve to her 
lips, as she recalled Lucy’s often repeated words of 
persuasion during the past months. 

“ I’m glad you really think so,” said Lucy, smil¬ 
ing. “ Because you’re getting to be more than I 
can manage. You’re not the sweet little delicate 
thing you were.” 

As she went into her own room for her hat and 
coat, Lucy could not help echoing her own words 
with a faint glow of satisfaction. She had never 
admitted to her mother, though Mrs. Gordon’s keen 
262 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


eyes guessed it, how very hard she had often found 
it to stick to her resolution in Marian’s behalf. All 
during the autumn she had steadfastly cut short the 
things she and Julia liked best to do in favor of the 
things Marian could be persuaded to take part in. 
She had spent all her playtime with her cousin, 
helping her to feel at home with other girls and to 
learn independence, with no other reward for her 
patience than the knowledge that the work she had 
wanted was here for the asking, and as hard and 
discouraging as she could wish. The satisfaction of 
seeing Marian daily grow stronger, gayer and more 
companionable had not come until lately, but it 
was no less a very real one, and Lucy longed now 
to tell her mother how glad she felt to have accepted 
the unwelcome task. In the past weeks Marian 
had begun generously to return her cousin’s kind¬ 
ness and Lucy would never look back at those dark 
days without a warm remembrance of Marian’s 
never-failing sympathy. 

“ I’m ready,” she called, after a moment. Marian 
answered from down-stairs, and Lucy following 
her, the two girls went outdoors and crossed the 
snow to the Houstons’. 

Julia’s mother had already heard the story of 
the letter, but both she and Julia wanted to hear it 
again. Nothing else was talked of while Lucy and 
Marian stayed, and as little else was in Lucy’s mind, 
263 


CAPTAIN LUCT 

she was very willing to talk about it with these old 
friends. 

“ Don’t you wish you could thank that dear 
old Elizabeth? ” cried Julia with shining eyes. 
“ Marian, do you remember saying that she and 
Karl were dangerous to have around? Here 
they’ve done the Gordons the best turn in the 
world.” 

“ Bob said he thought they’d get back to Ger¬ 
many somehow,” said Lucy thoughtfully. “ Eliza¬ 
beth must have been right near the battle-front to 
see that English soldier.” 

“ Perhaps Karl has gone into the army,” sug¬ 
gested Marian. 

“ Oh, he’s too old to fight,” Lucy objected. 
“ He’s past fifty. What I like best to think of,” 
she went on, brightening a little, “ is that Captain 
Benton, whom Bob liked so much, was with him 
when they started. He was taken prisoner, too, 
most likely, so Bob won’t be alone.” 

At last the visitors rose to go, for outside a bugler 
was sounding supper-call, and it was already 
dark. 

“ I never saw that dress before, Marian,” said 
Julia, looking at the pretty red challis as she held 
Marian’s heavy coat for her. “ Has your father 
sent you any more new ones? ” she asked teasingly. 

“ No,” said Marian, biting her lip, though her 
264 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

eyes twinkled. “ He promised to bring me some¬ 
thing when he comes, though—I wish he’d hurry.” 

“You’re a spoiled child,” said Julia, pulling 
Marian’s curls out from under her coat collar. 
“ You ought to stay here with me and Lucy and get 
used to things—like the boy in 4 Captains Coura¬ 
geous.’ ” 

“ Learn to be untidy and leave doors open and 
forget to wash the ink off your hands, like me,” said 
Lucy, laughing. 

“ I could teach you to rush at things, and then 
wish you hadn’t. That’s what I’m best at,” said 
Julia, entering into the joke. 

44 All the same, I wish you were going to stay 
until next summer, and perhaps you can,” said 
Lucy, tugging at her overshoes. 

44 I’ll come back, you know, Lucy, any time you 
ask me,” declared Marian, grown serious. 

44 Oh, I’ll ask you now—for three hundred and 
sixty-five days in the year,” said Lucy promptly. 
44 Come on, Marian, I’m roasting in these things.” 

Back at their own house, Lucy heard voices from 
her father’s study and stopped for a second, puzzled. 
But Marian, behind her, at the first sound of that 
voice was in doubt no longer. With a wild rush 
she flung the door wide open and ran into the 
room. 

44 Father! I knew it! ” she cried, in a burst of 
265 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


overwhelming delight, and as Mr. Leslie sprang 
from his chair she flung her arms about his neck. 

“ Why, Marian, it’s really you—safe and sound,” 
he said, joyfully hugging her, and he pulled the tarn 
from her tumbled hair and looked long into her 
smiling happy face. 


266 


CHAPTER XV 


ONE CHANCE OUT OF FIFTY 

Before Mr. Leslie went to bed that night he had 
heard all the Gordons could tell him about Bob, and 
of the fear that lay heavy at their hearts, even since 
the coming of Elizabeth's message. No one could 
resist the power of Mr. Leslie’s generous and over¬ 
flowing sympathy. He could not put into words 
his sorrow and deep concern at Bob’s misfortune, 
but his face, as responsive to his thoughts as 
Marian’s own, showed all he felt, and the Gordons 
spoke to him as they had spoken to no one else. 

All his happiness in Marian’s improvement did 
not lift the shadow from his mood that night, even 
while he talked hopefully, describing the vast ship¬ 
building scheme which might bring the war to an 
earlier end than now seemed possible. But here 
Major Gordon was too well up in facts and figures 
to be deceived, and he could not be comforted by 
false hopes. 

“ A year at the least, Henry. You know it as 
well as I. Our first draft is not yet fit for service, 
267 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

and a strong army from this side is needed to force 
a decision.” 

Mr. Leslie attempted no contradiction, but after 
a moment’s pause, he said, “ Nevertheless, the con¬ 
trol of the seas by our merchant fleet will be a 
triumph. Think what it would mean to defeat the 
submarine blockade of England.” 

“ You place your hopes on the sea,” declared 
Major Gordon. “ Good transportation is indis¬ 
pensable, and worth straining every nerve to gain, 
but it cannot do everything. The war must be won 
on land; mile by mile and man by man until the 
enemy is broken.” 

“ I think you take the brave part of a soldier in 
j>reparing for the worst,” Mr. Leslie persisted. “ I 
still look for some unforeseen event which will fight 
for us, as Russia’s unfortunate confusion fought for 
Germany.” 

“ Well, I haven’t much imagination,” remarked 
Major Gordon soberly. “ I’ll be precious glad to 
see it, though, if it comes.” 

Marian was almost asleep by her father’s chair, 
her heavy eyelids drooping for the past ten minutes 
in spite of every effort, and Lucy, though her ears 
were open to every word, was beginning to blink 
herself. 

“ You children must go to bed,” said Mrs. Gor¬ 
don, rousing herself from Her thoughts. “ It always 
268 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


makes you sleepy to be out in the cold. Go ahead, 
Lucy.” 

Marian demurred a little, but she rose in a 
moment and bade her father an affectionate good¬ 
night. It was easy to see how glad these two were 
to be together again, in spite of all Mr. Leslie’s pre¬ 
occupation at the Gordons’ trouble. He looked 
with a smile of the keenest satisfaction after Marian 
now, as the two girls went out of the room, leaving 
their elders together. 

Nobody was sleepier than Marian when she was 
really tired, and she said no more than to murmur 
a vague content at her father’s arrival while she and 
Lucy got ready for bed. Lucy was not anxious to 
talk, for her thoughts were busy with the conversa¬ 
tion she had just heard between her father and Mr. 
Leslie, but, ponder it as she would, it did not con¬ 
tain much hope or encouragement for the near 
future. She tried to find comfort in Mr. Leslie’s 
words, but the momentary cheerfulness she sum¬ 
moned died away before the hard truths of the 
war’s endless persistence and Bob’s imprisonment. 
Tossed to and fro between unanswerable questions, 
as she listened to the murmur of voices below, at 
last she fell asleep. 

Before the sun was fairly up next morning, and 
while she was only half awake, Lucy heard footsteps 
at her bedside. She turned over and, to her sur- 
269 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

prise, saw Marian, wrapped in a blue kimono, witK 
her curly bright hair loose about her smiling face. 

“ Are you wondering what on earth got me up 
at this hour? ” she asked at Lucy’s look of astonish¬ 
ment. “ I couldn’t sleep any longer, thinking of 
Father’s being here. Won’t you get up, Lucy, so 
we can take him for a walk around the post before 
school? He always gets up early, and Margaret 
will give us some breakfast.” 

“ Very well,” said Lucy, amused. She sat up 
and stretched her arms above her head, not very 
rested after her long, uneasy thoughts of the night 
before. “What a lovely day!” she exclaimed, 
turning toward the window, through which the 
rising sun was streaming. “ We’ll take Cousin 
Henry out on the sea-wall and inside the fort.” 

The girls dressed quickly, but Mr. Leslie, true to 
Marian’s words, was down-stairs almost as soon as 
they were. 

“ We’re going to take you for a walk,” said Lucy, 
smiling at his cheerful morning greeting. “ But 
we’ll have something to eat first, shan’t we? Be¬ 
cause Marian is such a walker now, there’s no 
knowing when we’ll get back.” 

Mr. Leslie expressed himself heartily as being 
willing to go anywhere and see anything, and the 
breakfast which Margaret sent up did not long 
delay them. 


27 ° 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


It was a clear, cold morning, and all three, once 
outdoors, started off at a brisk walk, and crossed 
the parade toward the new land beyond Brick Row, 
where already companies were forming for drill. 

Mr. Leslie could not keep his eyes from Marian, 
even to look at all the things she pointed out. The 
vigor of her movements and the lively interest 
which she called on him to share were alike in¬ 
credible to him. The delicate, fretful little daugh¬ 
ter he had left behind, with such qualms for her 
safety, had become a lovely, bright-eyed, rosy- 
cheeked girl. She laughed at the delight in his face 
as she said: 

“ You’re surprised, aren’t you, Father, to see me 
so fat and strong? You know, I’m surprised my¬ 
self. It’s all Lucy’s fault—you must ask her all 
the things she made me do.” 

Marian turned a bright, friendly glance on her 
cousin, who answered, undisturbed, “ I didn’t treat 
her very badly, Cousin Henry. Does she look as if 
I had?” 

“ Oh, Father,” Marian interrupted, serious now, 
“ she had the most awful time with me! I know it, 
Lucy, so there’s no use in your laughing. I 
wouldn’t go out or do anything she or Cousin Sally 
'wanted. I sat and moped until they almost gave 
me up as a bad job. But Lucy just decided it 
would be doing her bit, I guess, to make me act like 
271 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

other people, because she kept on, and the first thing 
I knew I began to like going around with other 
girls myself.” 

Marian had never expressed herself like this be¬ 
fore, and Lucy, pleased in her heart at having her 
hard efforts appreciated, thought with surprise, as 
she had already done more than once, that Marian 
was keener than any one gave her credit for. 

“ Lucy, I suppose you don’t wish me to thank 
you,” began Mr. Leslie, speaking so much more in 
earnest than Lucy had expected that she exclaimed 
hastily: 

“ Oh, mercy, no, Cousin Henry! What on earth 
for? We must turn off across the grass here, if you 
want to walk on the sea-wall. If we go out there 
first the men will all be at drill when we get back, 
and then we can go inside the fort.” 

Mr. Leslie watched Lucy’s face as she spoke, 
with a sudden, sharp contraction of his kind heart. 
The fresh color in her cheeks, which he had once 
envied for Marian, had paled during the last few 
weeks. The twinkling, hazel eyes, which he remem¬ 
bered so full of life and merriment were serious and 
sad as she raised them to his, and in every look and 
gesture he saw and understood the weight of 
anxiety that pressed upon her. She was cheerful 
enough, and most people might have seen little 
difference, but Mr. Leslie had observing eyes. 

272 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Poor little girl,” he thought pityingly. “ Poor 
old Bob, too,—hard luck.” 

“ Father, you aren’t looking at anything,” said 
Marian reproachfully. “ Here’s the aviation field— 
see it? We get to the sea-wall right here. It’s not 
quite so cold to-day, do you think so, Lucy? ” 

“Not while we’re in the sun. We come out here 
in all sorts of weather. Cousin Henry, and some¬ 
times Marian feels as though life on Governor’s 
Island were a sort of Arctic Expedition.” 

“ Except that she got back from it in fairly good 
shape,” said Mr. Leslie, throwing back his head to 
laugh in a jolly way he had. “ I can believe it took 
a good bit of coaxing to get her out here at first.” 

“ You bet it did,” agreed Marian, shivering 
reminiscently. “ It does still, when the wind blows. 
We came out here once when Julia had to hold her 
puppy for fear he’d be blown off, and I rebelled and 
said I wouldn’t stay.” 

“ Yes, we didn’t always have our own way with 
her,” said Lucy. “ She has been bossing me her¬ 
self a good deal lately, though,” she added, with a 
grateful remembrance of Marian’s thoughtfulness 
during the past weeks, as she looked out over the 
blue waters of the harbor. 

It was quarter to nine by the time they had come 
in from the sea-wall and crossed the island, past the 
companies at drill, to old Fort Jay, where they 
273 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


entered the sally-port in the ramparts, while Mr. 
Leslie inspected the barracks and quadrangle. 
Marian, who was decidedly more punctual than 
Lucy, hurried their steps to get back to the Mat¬ 
thews’ in time for school. 

“ Are you going to New York, Father? ” she 
asked. Mr. Leslie’s plans were as yet unsettled, 
and his stay at the post uncertain. Marian was 
anxious to learn what he intended to do as soon as 
possible. 

“ Yes, I must go over some time this morning. 
I can’t tell whether another trip West this month 
is necessary until I have seen a fellow from the 
shipping board, who has come up from Washing¬ 
ton.” 

“ Well, promise to come back for dinner,” begged 
Marian, as they neared the Gordons’ house. 

“ Yes, I promise. But I probably shall be gone 
all day. Here’s your father, Lucy, wondering 
where we have flown to.” 

Major Gordon was standing on the steps, cap in 
hand, as they came up, and he exclaimed in surprise 
at their early start, glancing at the watch on his 
wrist. “ I thought you’d taken the girls off to play 
hooky, Henry. I was almost starting after you.” 

“ We’re not late,” said Lucy, running up the 
steps. “ I’ll get our books, Marian, and come right 
out. There’s Julia crossing from her house now.” 

274 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ Good-bye; don’t stay long,” Marian called back 
to her father when she and Lucy started off. 

Lucy liked school better lately than she ever had 
before, because it occupied her mind and kept it 
from straying into what were often unhappy direc¬ 
tions. The hours the four girls spent with Miss 
Ellis were very pleasant ones, and the mornings 
usually ended soon enough for everybody. .Lucy 
did object to the Latin days, for it took her a whole 
hour of the afternoon before to prepare her lesson. 
To-day Miss Ellis gave out a whole page of sen¬ 
tences, and Lucy said emphatically to Julia, as the 
girls were walking home: 

“ You have simply got to come over after lunch 
and help me with that Latin. I’ll show you about 
the arm-bandaging for next week, if you will.” 

Julia was willing to do almost anything for her 
friend these days, and she answered, glad of the 
opportunity, “ Of course I’ll help you. We’ll do 
it together. I can come over early.” 

Languages were Julia’s strong point. She could 
speak French almost as well as Marian, and when 
the three girls got together that afternoon the lesson 
did not take long. As Marian folded up her paper 
she said thoughtfully: 

“ I suppose you’ve always gone to school and 
had to do your lessons. It’s funny. I thought you 
worked dreadfully hard when I began studying here 
275 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


in September. I kept on only because I was 
ashamed not to be able to do as much as the rest of 
you” 

“ Why, you’ve always had a governess, Marian, 
haven’t you? ” asked Lucy, surprised. 

“ Oh, yes. But she didn’t dare make me work 
hard. Once she did and I got sick and scared her 
and Father almost to death. It was at Lucerne, 
two years ago, and the whole rest of the year I just 
fooled along. If she tried to begin real lessons 
I looked doubtful about it and she gave right 
in.” 

“ That was easy,” said Julia, laughing. “ I wish 
I’d been brought up that way. But you seem to 
know a good deal, in spite of it.” 

“ That’s just from traveling and reading, or 
what Father has told me.” Marian called this back 
from her own room, where she had gone to take off 
her school dress. “ I never really worked at any¬ 
thing unless I wanted to.” 

“ You’re not so awfully spoiled, considering,” 
said Lucy, leaning back in her chair and watching 
Marian lazily, as she came in, slipping over her 
head the dress she had brought from her room. 

“ Have I seen that one? I don’t think so,” said 
Julia, turning to look with critical interest at the 
plaid serge that Marian had changed to. “ Clothes 
may come and clothes may go, but yours go on 
276 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

forever,” she remarked, putting down her pen. 
“ Come here, Marian, and I’ll fasten it for you.” 

“ I suppose I’d better put on something decent, 
too, before Cousin Henry gets back,” said Lucy, 
looking with disfavor at her tan shoes, which were 
decidedly in want of a polish. “ You seem to dress 
by clockwork, Marian. It’s always a wrench for 
me to remember it.” 

Marian laughed, rising from the arm of Julia’s 
chair to stand before Lucy’s glass to straighten her 
collar and arrange the ribbons on her hair. 

“ Still, it’s easier for you to look neat, having that 
sort of hair that curls right around where it be¬ 
longs,” Lucy went on. “ Mine goes in every direc¬ 
tion it shouldn’t.” She gave a vigorous tug to her 
hair-ribbon, and pulled her soft, fair hair down 
about her shoulders. 

“ Well, I can’t wait while you fix all that,” said 
Julia, getting up and collecting her book and 
papers. “ I promised to help Mother at the Red 
Cross.” 

“I’ll go over with you,” said Marian quickly; 
“ I’m all dressed and I’d like to.” 

“ All right—fine,” said Julia, as Marian went 
into her room for her coat and hat. 

Lucy went to the stairs with them and called 
good-bye over the banisters; then she returned to 
change her shoes and dress and put up her hair. 

277 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


None of this took her long, and in fifteen minutes 
she was ready and stood undecided by her closet 
door, wondering whether or not to go out and join 
the others. She heard the door open down-stairs 
and footsteps below, and had made up her mind to 
go down and find her mother, if she had come home, 
when some one knocked sharply at her door. 

“ Come in,” she said, thinking it was Marie, but 
to her surprise Mr. Leslie’s voice said, as he opened 
the door, “Hello, Lucy! May I come and see 
you? ” 

“ Of course, Cousin Henry! When did you get 
back? ” said Lucy, going to meet him with a smile 
of welcome. “ Is every one out? I was just com¬ 
ing down.” 

“ Your mother is at home. She has some visitors 
down-stairs. But I want to talk to you a few min¬ 
utes, if you’ve no objections.” 

“Not a bit,” said Lucy, rather mystified, as she 
drew forward a chair for Mr. Leslie and sank down 
herself on her little sofa. 

Mr. Leslie’s cheeks were still ruddy from the 
cold air, and he rubbed his hands together a second 
before he began, with a quick glance at Lucy’s won¬ 
dering face: 

“ When I tried to tell you the other day how 
grateful I felt for what you have done for Marian 
you changed the subject as soon as possible. I 
278 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


didn’t blame you,” he added with a sudden smile. 
“ It isn’t much fun being thanked. You’d rather 
I’d feel it and keep it to myself.” 

“ Oh—honestly, I didn’t do much,” stammered 
Lucy, blushing and acutely uncomfortable. She 
liked to be appreciated as much as any one, but this 
was going rather far. 

“ You did just this,” Mr. Leslie persisted. 
“You brought back Marian’s health—the one thing 
in the world I wanted that I hadn’t it in my power 
to get.” The keen, blue eyes were shining as he 
looked intently into Lucy’s shy and troubled face. 
“ Whatever you say, Lucy, you have done me a 
service that I can never forget as long as I live, and 
gratitude would be an empty boast if I didn’t want 
to do you a favor in return. I know there is only 
one thing in the world you want just now.” Lucy 
looked at him, startled beyond all embarrassment, 
as he went on, “ I can’t tell whether that thing is 
within my power to give you—I won’t know for 
many long days—but I am going to do my best. 
I have good friends in Switzerland, at our Em¬ 
bassy at Berne. I am going to cross this week 
and see what they can do toward having Bob ex¬ 
changed.” 

Lucy sprang from the sofa to kneel by Mr. Les¬ 
lie’s chair and look into his face. “ Oh, Cousin 
Henry—do you m-mean it?” she faltered, her 
279 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


throat painfully choking and her sight dimmed by 
the tears that filled and overflowed her eyes. 

“ It isn’t likely I’d say it if I didn’t,” responded 
Mr. Leslie’s big reassuring voice, as he patted his 
little cousin’s shoulder with a tender hand. “ I 
don’t say I shall succeed, Lucy—but I’m going to 
try.” 

“ But what will you do, Cousin Henry? What 
can you do, if the Germans don’t want to let him 
go? ” cried Lucy, the sudden radiance of her hope 
dying down at thought of the real obstacles in the 
way of Bob’s release. She dashed the tears from 
her eyes to look eagerly into Mr. Leslie’s face for 
signs of confidence in his undertaking. 

His face, though, was more determined than con¬ 
fident as he answered, “ It isn’t exactly a favor we 
shall ask of Germany. Exchanges are of mutual 
benefit, for in Bob’s place a German prisoner, whom 
some one over there is anxious to see released, will 
be restored to his friends. This is done all the time, 
as you know, but it is subject, of course, to certain 
conditions.” The principal one of the conditions 
he had in mind was that the prisoner to be ex¬ 
changed must be badly wounded, but he did not 
mention this just then. Mr. Leslie was not so 
foolishly optimistic as to be blind to the difficulties 
in his way, but he considered a reasonable hope as 
ground enough on which to proceed. 

280 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

“ The way these exchanges are managed,” he 
went on, “ is through the mediation of our minister 
in Switzerland with the diplomat who has charge 
of our affairs in Berlin. In this way Ambassador 
Gerard, who had charge of British affairs in Ger¬ 
many from the outbreak of the war, obtained the 
release of many British prisoners, or, when this was 
impossible, at least managed to better their con¬ 
dition. The Spanish Ambassador, who looks after 
the United States now in Germany, is my very old 
friend, whose house we rented in Cadiz, the winter 
Marian’s mother died. I know he will do his best 
for me—though what that best amounts to only 
time can tell. But it’s enough to cheer up a little 
on—isn’t it, Lucy? ” 

“ Oh, yes, it is. Cousin Henry! ” cried Lucy, with 
light in her eyes and a new life in her voice as she 
stood up by Mr. Leslie’s side. “ Do Father and 
Mother know? ” 

“ Your father does. He’s coming in now,” said 
Mr. Leslie, looking from the window. “ I’ll go 
down and speak to him and to your mother, if those 
people have gone.” 

“ I’m coming, too,” exclaimed Lucy, wiping her 
eyes and tucking back her hair, after a hasty glance 
in the mirror. “ I know all about it, so I may hear 
what you say to them, mayn’t I? ” 

“ I don’t see why not,” said Mr. Leslie cheer- 
281 


CAPTAIN LVCT 


fully, as he led the way down-stairs to the study* 
where Major and Mrs. Gordon were looking over 
the afternoon mail. 

The talk which followed was a long one, and 
Lucy’s joy was tempered by a few troubled and 
remorseful moments. Mrs. Gordon, overcome with 
gratitude as Lucy had been, still found thought for 
Marian, and hesitated to permit the journey Mr. 
Leslie meant to undertake in their behalf. Major 
Gordon, too, looking anxious and care-worn, made 
an attempt to dissuade him. 

“ It’s one chance out of fifty that you’ll succeed, 
Henry,” he said soberly, “ and the risk to yourself 
amounts to something. It’s more than we can 
reasonably ask of you.” 

“ You didn’t ask it,” responded Mr. Leslie, 
calmly. “ I told Lucy I intended doing something 
for her, to repay what she has done for my little 
girl, and I mean to stick to it. I saw about my 
passports to-day.” 

Lucy was sitting on the floor by her mother’s side, 
and at this she felt the unruly tears rising again to 
her eyes, as she leaned against her mother’s knee 
while Mrs. Gordon’s arm stole about her shoulders. 

“ More than that,” Mr. Leslie continued, “ I’m 
doing it for my own satisfaction. Having friends 
whose help will give me a reasonable chance of suc¬ 
cess I can’t rest content without an effort to get 
282 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Bob out. Maybe I’ll only be able to find out where 
he is and open communication with him. That will 
at least be something. I’ve known and loved the 
boy for twenty years. He certainly deserves this 
much from me.” 

Lucy’s eyes met his, as he spoke these earnest 
words, with instant and heartfelt understanding. 
She knew what Mr. Leslie meant when he said he 
could not rest without doing his utmost to win Bob’s 
freedom. That longing, helpless on her part, to do 
something—even the least thing—in Bob’s behalf, 
had been with her many days, and she keenly under¬ 
stood Mr. Leslie’s restless discontent, and guessed 
at his eager desire to get nearer by three thou¬ 
sand miles to Bob’s i^rison, and strike a blow at 
the battle-front itself toward his release. 

Before any one had time to say more, Marian 
came in, returning from the Red Cross. Mr. Les¬ 
lie rose and went to meet her. 

“ I want to talk to you, Marian—just for a min¬ 
ute,” he said. “ Let’s go up to your room.” 

Up-stairs he unfolded his plan, making it sound 
as hopeful and promising as he could, nor dwelling 
on any possible danger to himself, but if he had 
looked for a scene at the news of his departure he 
was agreeably disappointed. Marian did cry, “ Oh, 
Father, you’re not going over—now! ” and tears of 
disappointment shone in her eyes, but she sat down 
283 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

and listened quietly to what he said, and did not 
refuse to understand. 

She was not by any means indifferent to Bob’s 
misfortune, and her sympathetic nature made her 
share of the Gordons’ trouble a very real one. 
Bob’s jolty, friendly presence had won her instant 
liking, in the few days she had known him, and the 
thought of what her father’s going might achieve 
for him made the parting far easier to bear. As 
for the dangers of the voyage, once Mr. Leslie had 
pooh-poohed the idea and promised that his absence 
should be a short one, Marian ceased to fear. She 
had the most unbounded confidence in her father’s 
word, and she had often seen him go great distances 
in safety, and had accompanied him half-way 
around the world herself. 

This was not the only talk that occurred in the 
three days which followed. Many were the plans 
discussed, suggestions offered and apprehensions 
felt by the different members of the family. But 
Mr. Leslie had nothing but cheerful words, now 
that his course was definitely settled, and his happi¬ 
ness in Marian’s recovery was heightened by the 
hope and comfort he saw he had brought to Lucy’s 
heart. He stuck to his original plan and sailed 
from “ an American port ” on Christmas Eve. 


284 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE FLYING MAN 

Marian missed her father, and felt keenly the 
disappointment of losing him so soon again, but 
she looked eagerly forward, with the Gordons, to 
the success of his mission. Christmas week passed 
slowly, but on New Year’s Day came the welcome 
news by cable of his arrival on the other side. It 
was a New Year’s greeting that meant more than 
any good wishes could to those who received it; the 
knowledge that Mr. Leslie had safely started on his 
difficult undertaking. 

Lucy and Marian had been kept busy during the 
holidays, for Miss Thomas gave her class three 
lessons a week during that time, and her pupils had 
learned enough now to be really interested. She 
lost no opportunity to make them feel the real im¬ 
portance of their work. 

“ You don’t know how useful you may be before 
the war is over,” she told the girls one day just after 
the new year. “ Every one who can do the least 
thing well is needed now. The smallest help is that 
much done, which is not left for some one else to do. 
Experienced nurses are scarce already, and will be 
285 


CAPTAIN LUCr 


fewer still. Even to know how to keep oneself in 
good health is worth much. Some of you, young 
as you are, I feel confident could be of very real 
help if you were called upon. There is work to be 
done among children in our hospitals, for instance, 
for which trained nurses cannot always be spared. 
Some of you are nearly old enough for such work, 
if the time comes. Among the younger ones, Lucy 
Gordon strikes me as a very promising little nurse.” 

She smiled in Lucy’s direction, with a pleasant, 
direct way she had of giving praise wherever it was 
due. This was the first time she had picked out 
Lucy, who was rather overcome for a moment, 
though tremendously pleased nevertheless. She 
could not resist a triumphant glance at Julia, which 
that good-natured young person returned with a 
broad grin of comprehension. 

“ Good for you, Lucy! We’ll be proud of you 
yet,” whispered Anne. “ Perhaps taking care of 
Marian was good practice for you,” she added 
slyly, for Lucy’s energetic perseverance with 
Marian had often aroused her amusement. 

“ Yes, she was my first attempt,” said Lucy, 
smiling. “ She lived through it, anyhow. Come 
on, we’re going down now.” 

Miss Thomas was distributing gauze and muslin 
bandaging for the first-aid demonstration which fol¬ 
lowed the nursing class. 

286 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Lucy was so encouraged by her teacher’s praise 
that she felt equal to anything. She wrapped the 
bandage about Julia’s supposedly injured collar¬ 
bone with cheerful ardor, until Julia, cautiously 
wriggling her shoulder, remarked, “ I wish she’d 
waited until we got through to tell you that. I 
think you’ve stopped the circulation. Loosen it 
u}) a little.” 

Lucy burst out laughing, and undid the bandage 
to suit her exacting patient. “ It’s you who de¬ 
serve all the credit,” she said candidly. “ Any one 
would have to be a good nurse who had you to fix. 
Marian lets me tie her up in knots and just grins 
and bears it until I let her out.” 

“ Well, it’s easier sometimes than arguing with 
you,” declared Julia, stretching her arm again with 
a sigh of relief. “ I still think I was right about 
that sunstroke.” 

At the last lesson Lucy and Julia had had a hot 
discussion as to whether the sunstruck person’s 
head should be raised or lowered, which ended in 
Lucy’s spilling all the ice for her patient’s head 
compress over Julia’s face as she lay on the sofa. 
Even after that Lucy refused to give in, and the 
book, by an annoying confusion of terms, seemed 
to give neither side satisfaction. 

Lucy smiled at the remembrance. There had 
lots of funny things happened during the course, 
287 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


though such hard and effective work lay behind 
them, and Lucy thanked Miss Thomas sincerely in 
her heart for the hours of distraction from worry 
that the lessons had brought. 

It was a lovely clear day, and after luncheon 
Lucy offered to take William out on his sled, feel-' 
ing like having a little strenuous exercise. William' 
seemed quite willing to help her get it, for he asked: 

“ Do you mind pulling Happy, too, Lucy? He 
gets awfully deep in the snow if he has to walk.” 

“ How about me? ” Lucy demanded. “ All 
right, I’ll see how heavy you are.” 

She selected the parade, which had been firmly 
packed down by the marching men, and drew 
William and Happy past Colonel’s Row and across 
it. Then, as they came to Brick Row, the sparkling 
water tempting her, she pulled the sled over the new 
land toward the sea-wall, a hard tug of half a mile 
that made her sink down by William’s side as they 
neared the water, with hot cheeks and panting 
breath. 

“ Gracious, what a pair of fat lazybones!” she 
exclaimed, looking at her passengers with uncon¬ 
cealed scorn. “ Why don’t you get out and 
stretch your legs? That puppy needs some exer¬ 
cise.” 

“ All right,” agreed William, peaceably. “ You 
said you wanted to pull me. Happy would rather 
288 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


walk, anyway,” he added in defense of his pet, whom 
he had been holding on the sled with great difficulty 
all the way over. 

“ It’s lovely out here in the sun,” said Lucy, 
calming down. 

An airplane had risen from the aviation field on 
their left and was flying at a leisurely rate in their 
direction. William leaned back on the sled to 
watch it as it flew over them and on toward Fort 
Jay. “ I guess he’s cold,” he remarked. “ That’s 
what makes him go so slowly.” 

“ Isn’t the water pretty, William? ” asked Lucy, 
looking toward the sea-wall, a hundred yards dis¬ 
tant. 

“ Yes. He’s coming back now,” said William, 
still watching the aviator, who had circled about 
Fort Jay and was flying low over the parade at 
the edge of the new land, seeming to avoid the 
parade itself, where a few companies were march¬ 
ing out to drill. 

Lucy turned from the water to follow the air¬ 
plane’s flight as it swooped down, barely a hun¬ 
dred feet above the earth, its white wings gleaming 
in the sunlight against the bright blue sky. Sud¬ 
denly she stiffened. “ Why, he’s going to land, I do 
believe, and I think he’ll come down on top of us! ” 

She seized the sled rope and pulled William and 
Happy off nearer to the sea-wall, while above them 
289 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

the airplane descended in a series of crooked dives 
to the ground. She could see the aviator pulling 
madly at his steering gear, as with a final glide the 
machine came to earth about two hundred yards 
from the sea-wall. 

“Hoo-h!” breathed William, jumping up and 
down in his excitement. 

The pilot stepped out with deliberation, and at 
sight of his slow walk Lucy recognized him, though 
his uniform was almost covered by a big sheepskin 
coat. It was the French aviator, Captain Jourdin, 
who, though discharged from active service for 
wounds, had taught since the declaration of war in 
the American Aviation Schools. He was a familiar 
figure on Governor’s Island, where he spent a part 
of the time he divided among half a dozen places. 
His ankle was held in an iron brace, and he limped 
heavily in walking, but his general activity was not 
much impaired in spite of it. As he approached the 
children now, his keen dark eyes were fixed on them 
with a touch of anxiety. 

“ I beg a thousand pardons,” were his first words 
as he neared the sled from which Lucy came for¬ 
ward to meet him. “ I frightened you, I fear? ” 
He looked from Lucy’s face to William’s for signs 
of alarm, while Lucy answered: 

“ Oh, no, you didn’t—honestly. I got out of the 
way because I wasn’t sure where you were coming 
290 





l 4 


? y 


I DID NOT KNOW WHERE I SHOULD LAND 












AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


down.” She had never seen the famous young 
veteran so near before, and she scanned his face 
with eager interest. 

“ I did not know where I should land myself,” he 
declared, shaking his head and glancing at the air¬ 
plane behind him. “ It is an old one that they have 
repaired to use for practice flights. I took it out 
to see if it would do, but—it will not,” he ended in 
a tone of conviction. “ The steering gear was a bit 
too much for me.” He gave a rueful look at his 
right hand, which he had wrenched in trying to 
bring the airplane safely to earth. It was already 
swollen about the wrist. 

All Lucy’s interest in nursing, fostered by what 
she had lately learned, sprang into life at sight of 
the ugly sprain. She was a little shy of the French 
officer, but she put aside her diffidence and spoke 
boldly. 

“ Please let me tie it up for you! I can keep it 
from swelling any more, and it would be half an 
hour before you could get to the hospital.” 

The Frenchman shook his head with a smile, as 
though about to refuse, but perhaps the eager look 
in Lucy’s face changed his mind. His smile broad¬ 
ened, and he held out his injured hand, saying, 
“ Many thanks, Miss. You are more than kind. 
May I sit down on the little brother’s sled? ” 

William nodded vigorously, not finding words to 
291 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


reply, and the aviator seated himself, stretching his 
stiff leg out in front of him. 

Lucy’s thoughts had not been a second idle. 
“ Elevate the joint if possible and apply heat or 
cold. Cold may be applied in the form of snow or 
crushed ice in a cloth.” Nothing could be easier to 
follow than those directions. She took a clean 
handkerchief from her coat pocket, but at sight of 
it Captain Jourdin dived with his left hand inside 
his coat and produced his own. 

“ This is a trifle larger,” he suggested, handing 
it to Lucy with a twinkle in his eyes. 

Lucy was too much in earnest to give more than 
a nod in return. She took her own handkerchief 
and filled it with clean snow, scraped from below 
the surface. Then laying the cold compress care¬ 
fully about the officer’s swollen wrist, she fastened 
it firmly in place with his handkerchief. The result 
had a bulky look, but it gave the aching wrist a 
good deal of comfort, for her patient’s voice sounded 
sincere when he exclaimed: 

“ That’s good! That was just the right thing 
for it. You seem to be a very wise young lady.” 
He smiled at her as he fingered the snow bandage 
critically. “ Might I ask your name? ” he added, 
as Lucy, feeling shy again after her bold attempt 
at assistance, flicked the snow from her bare hands 
with her glove. 

292 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“Lucy Gordon,” she said, looking up at this; 
“ and my brother’s name is William.” 

“So is mine,” declared the Frenchman, with a 
friendly glance in William’s direction, “ only I 
don’t say it quite that way. Your father is an 
officer on the post? ” he inquired. 

“Yes; a major on the staff,” explained Lucy; 
then, feeling expansive in the presence of a listener 
who could so well understand her, she added, “ My 
older brother is an aviator. He went to France 
in the summer and now he is a prisoner in Ger¬ 
many.” 

“ No! A prisoner? ” was the quick and sympa¬ 
thetic response, as the dark eyes lighted up with a 
look of keen interest. “ Ah, that is hard! ” he said 
softly; “ but your brother did his best for his coun¬ 
try, and still his life is spared. We can only hope 
that soon the war may be won, and our friends come 
back to us.” 

Lucy nodded, her eyes sad and wistful for a 
moment as she said, “ He loved flying. He came 
from West Point only last August, but he was 
transferred to the Aviation Corps right away. 
Look, Captain Jourdin—they must be coming 
after you.” 

A little group of men had started over from the 
aviation field, evidently to find out the cause of the 
aviator’s protracted stop, and at sight of them Cap- 

293 


CAPTAIN LUCr 


tain Jourdin rose at once to his feet, signaling with! 
his left arm to reassure them. 

“ I shall need a mechanic before that machine 
rises again,” he remarked, “ so I must go forward 
and explain to Captain Brent.” He turned back 
to Lucy and held out his unbandaged hand. “ You 
will excuse me,” he said, smiling, “ if I do not offer 
you the other. Good-bye and many thanks, Miss 
Lucie. I shall hope to meet that brother of yours, 
the aviator, before many long months. My very 
good wishes for his near and safe return.” He held 
up his bandaged wrist, adding, “It is you I have 
to thank that this is no longer painful.” 

“ I’m so glad,” faltered Lucy, longing, as she 
shook hands, to ask more about Bob, and what 
chance Mr. Leslie might have of success. 

The Frenchman gave a friendly salute to 
William, who returned it promptly with his red- 
mittened paw, and limped slowly off over the snow 
to meet the advancing officer. 

“ I wonder if he could have told me anything,” 
Lucy asked herself, wishing she had got up courage 
to question him further while she had time. “ He’s 
had no end of adventures since the war began. 
Perhaps he’s been in a German prison, too.” 

“ Come on, Lucy, let’s go. What are you stand¬ 
ing there for? ” demanded William, stamping his 
cold feet and looking impatiently at his sister, who 
294 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

seemed lost in watching the departing French¬ 
man. 

“ I wonder what he’s been through since 1914,” 
Lucy murmured; then, turning back to William 
and the sled, she picked up the rope, saying, “ All 
right, come on. Suppose you walk until you get 
warm and then I’ll pull you the rest of the way. 
Happy can do whichever he likes.” 

“ He’d rather walk until I get on,” said William, 
starting along. “ Let’s stop and look at the air¬ 
plane first. It can’t fly, you know.” 

All the way home Lucy was preoccupied, think¬ 
ing of her hurried first-aid dressing, and of whether 
she had really helped the sprain, then forgetting 
that, to wish again that she had tried to learn some¬ 
thing of Bob’s probable whereabouts and chances 
of liberty. 

“ If only I may see him again, I’ll ask him,” she 
thought, but not very hopefully, for the foreign in¬ 
structors remained principally on the aviation field, 
and the officers’ children were seldom allowed 
there. 

Lucy could hardly wait, when she got home, to 
tell her mother and Marian all about it, though she 
stopped in the middle of her story to look up sprains 
in her tattered first-aid manual, to see if she had 
forgotten anything that could have been carried out 
on the spot. Relieved about that she went on talk- 
295 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


ing, and as she described the French aviator Mrs. 
Gordon said: 

“ That’s the man Captain Brent speaks so mucH 
of. He can’t say enough in his praise. He was 
telling your father the other night about some of 
his wonderful exploits.” 

“ Oh, I wish I might hear about them! I’ll ask 
Captain Brent,” exclaimed Lucy, eagerly. 

“ That’s what I get for staying at home,” re¬ 
marked Marian, who was sitting beside Mrs. Gor¬ 
don’s sewing-table, absently twisting a curl about 
her finger. “Of course you had to have an ad¬ 
venture, Lucy, when I wasn’t there. Interesting 
things always seem to happen on the coldest days.” 

“ It was my fault this time,” said Mrs. Gordon. 
“ I didn’t want you to go out again in the cold.” 
She looked at Marian’s pretty, regretful face with 
a smile that had behind it a clear, searching glance. 
She had feared that Mr. Leslie’s departure might 
prove a trying disappointment, and lead Marian to 
mope again, but though it was evident that she 
missed her father, and that he was constantly in her 
thoughts, Marian’s health was now too firmly re¬ 
established to suffer seriously. Her father’s de¬ 
light, too, at the change in her, was enough to keep 
up her interest in her own improvement. Mrs. 
Gordon looked with satisfaction at the worn skirt 
of Marian’s serge dress, where she had knelt on 
296 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


William’s sled, and had crawled over the floor while 
following Miss Thomas’ directions in regard to 
escaping from a burning house. Her dresses never 
had known such marks before, but had been given 
away as good as new at the end of the season. Mrs. 
Gordon welcomed, in Marian’s case, a few of the 
tears and worn places with which her own children 
furnished her almost too plentifully. 

“ I’m going to change it in a minute, Cousin 
Sally,” said Marian, following Mrs. Gordon’s 
glance to her knees. “ But I think I’ll go and 
write to Father first; though, from what he said 
about his address,” she added doubtfully, “ it’s 
about as definite as writing to Santa Claus.” 

“ Not quite so bad as that,” said Mrs. Gordon, 
smiling, “ because he’ll get your letters—sooner or 
later.” She was serious again before she finished 
speaking, and Lucy, guessing her thoughts, knew 
that she was longing for the day when word from 
Bob should come, and messages from home could at 
least reach his prison. 

Unable to offer any encouragement worth hear¬ 
ing, Lucy rose from the floor with a smothered 
sigh, saying, “ I need to dress, too. Come on, 
Marian. That pesky hair of yours looks just as 
nice as it did at breakfast.” 

In the evening, to Lucy’s delight, Captain Brent 
came to call, anxious to hear about the progress of 
297 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

Mr. Leslie’s journey in Bob’s behalf. Lucy could 
scarcely wait for a chance to ask him about Captain 
Jourdin. 

When the opportunity came she demanded, 
breathlessly, “ Was he badly wounded? Did he do 
wonderful things first, Captain Brent? Was he 
ever taken prisoner? ” 

“ One at a time, Captain Lucy,” said the officer, 
laughing. “ I know why you’re so interested, 
though. He told me about the excellent treatment 
his sprained wrist received as soon as the beastly 
machine came down. I asked who tied it up for 
him, as he evidently couldn’t have done it alone, 
and he said he had no idea American girls were so 
accomplished.” 

“ But what did the doctor say who saw the band¬ 
age? ” inquired Major Gordon, amused. 

“ I don’t know, but it looked pretty good to me. 
The swelling didn’t get any worse, which was what 
Jourdin wanted,” declared Captain Brent, leaning 
down to play with Happy, who was growling at one 
of his boots. 

“ Won’t you tell some of the things he’s done? ” 
begged Lucy, afraid it would be bedtime before 
she heard anything. 

“ Why, it would take a week to tell all of them,” 
said Captain Brent, straightening up again and 
speaking thoughtfully. “ I heard about his service 
298 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


in France from a British officer who was over on 
Long Island last month. Jourdin would never tell 
anything. He thinks he made a mess of things—■ 
getting out of the fight so early.” 

“ How long was he in the war? ” asked Mrs. 
Gordon. 

“ Two years, just about. The information he 
brought back from the German lines was instru¬ 
mental in winning the Battle of the Somme, accord¬ 
ing to this Englishman. There is nothing Jourdin 
would not undertake to do, if the object were worth 
gaining. His last flight before his discharge was 
made over enemy territory after he received two 
bullets in his leg and another through the shoulder. 
He wouldn’t go back until he learned what he was 
told to find out. But the bones of his ankle were 
injured beyond repair.” 

“ Was he ever taken prisoner? ” Lucy could not 
help repeating. 

“No, never—though he had several narrow 
escapes when he was forced to go down behind the 
German lines. His brother, an infantry colonel, 
is in a German prison now.” 

“ Does he hear from him? Can he get letters? ” 
Lucy questioned eagerly. 

“ I don’t know. I’ll ask him if you like. We’ve 
never got on that subject.” 

Lucy’s knitting had fallen, forgotten, at her feet, 
299 


CAPTAIN LUCr 


and only Happy’s excitement as he grabbed the ball 
and rolled over on it made her stoop to rescue the 
sock, while Marian snatched up the puppy from 
the tangle of yarn. Major Gordon had begun 
talking to Captain Brent, and Lucy felt she had 
asked her share of questions, but she longed to find 
out more about the Frenchman and obtain Captain 
Brent’s promise to learn from him whatever he knew 
about German prisons. Captain Brent would be 
glad enough himself, she was sure, to learn some¬ 
thing about Bob’s fortunes, and he saw the aviator 
almost every day. However, just then she had to 
be patient, for Mrs. Gordon drew her attention to 
the clock, and she and Marian got up and said good¬ 
night. 

“ I wonder if your father has got to Switzerland 
yet, Marian, or if he has talked to any one about 
Bob,” Lucy asked when they were up-stairs, as she 
had done nearly every evening since Mr. Leslie’s 
arrival on the other side. She followed Marian 
into her room and watched her cousin with admiring 
eyes as she brushed out her golden curls and braided 
them into two pigtails for the night. 

“ I don’t know, but we’ll hear before very long,” 
was Marian’s sensible answer, which was not very 
satisfying to Lucy, though she nodded a faint 
agreement. 

“ I never could bear waiting,” she remarked, 
300 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


turning to go back to her own room. “ Neither can 
Bob. We’d both rather do anything than expect 
things that don’t happen.” 

“ Perhaps you won’t have to wait much longer. 
I can’t help thinking that Father will send good 
news soon,” said Marian, with a hopeful look that 
cheered Lucy in spite of herself. Marian put on a 
blue silk kimono and dived into the closet for her 
slippers while Lucy still stood uncertainly in the 
doorway. 

“ The only thing is,” she muttered, frowning a 
little at the thought, “ I know Father won’t stay 
here much longer if we don’t hear any news. 
Mother told me this morning that he intends asking 
for foreign service.” 

“ But can he leave here? ” asked Marian, 
astonished. 

“ He has one year more on this staff detail, but 
he thinks they will let him go. They are short of 
Q. M. officers on the other side. He will go when 
his detail ends, anyhow—if the war isn’t over.” 

“ But perhaps it will be,” suggested Marian, 
looking like a cheerful little prophet wrapped in 
blue silk. 

“ Perhaps,” said Lucy, smiling faintly at her. 
“ Anyhow, I’d better go to bed.” 


3 or 


CHAPTER XVII 


OYER THE FRONTIER 

Six weeks of imprisonment had brought few 
changes to Bob, and those few were not of a pleasant 
sort. The only bright spot in the dark monotony 
of his life was Sergeant Cameron’s companionship, 
for repeated requests had finally obtained it for 
him, in a qualified degree. His captors had no ob¬ 
jection to the sergeant’s waiting on the American 
officer in place of a German orderly, so after the 
usual hesitation and delay, Sergeant Cameron was 
allowed to visit Bob and attend to his simple wants 
in the short periods during which the doors remained 
unlocked. Bob still shared Bertrand’s room, and 
most of Sergeant Cameron’s ministrations were by 
now directed, together with Bob’s, to making the 
unfortunate officer as comfortable as possible. The 
two or three weeks which were to elapse before his 
transfer to better quarters had lengthened to five, 
and still the fever came and went, each time leaving 
the patient sufferer thinner, weaker, and less able 
to fight for his life. As Bob knelt beside his cot 
one cold, dark morning, with a bowl of coffee in his 
302 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

hands, he turned a weary, anxious face to Sergeant 
Cameron, who was trying to blow the few sticks on 
the hearth into a lively blaze. 

“ It’s no use, Sergeant/’ he said, sombrely. “ I 
can’t make him take anything. He won’t be roused 
at all. Confound that doctor! He hasn’t been 
near us in three days.” 

“ He’s off at another camp, sir, so I heard from 
the guard,” said the sergeant, pausing in his work 
to look at Captain Bertrand’s flushed and uncon¬ 
scious face as he lay heavily breathing. “ I think 
he’ll be along to-day. He has more to do than he 
can manage, but he seems a pretty good sort, for a 
Boche.” 

Bob gave a grunt of angry helplessness. “ Then 
why doesn’t he get this poor fellow moved? Can’t 
he see that he’s dying on his hands? I don’t care 
if their hospitals are jammed with wounded—one 
Frenchman is worth a dozen of them! ” 

Bob spoke with a bitterness that was new to him, 
and his frowning brows did not unknit themselves 
as he rose from the floor, carefully drawing the 
blanket over Bertrand’s shoulders. Sergeant Cam¬ 
eron finished mending the fire in thoughtful silence. 
The old soldier had suffered heavy disappointment 
in being captured and removed from the fighting 
line so early in the struggle, during a trifling raid on 
a bit of exposed German trench. Since then, too, 
303 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


he had known hard privation in the prison camp, 
but at least half of the anxiety and depression that 
had paled his ruddy face was for the son of his old 
Major, whose every word and gesture showed the 
strain of indignation, hunger, and rigid confine¬ 
ment unwillingly borne. He could not do much to 
alleviate Bob’s misery, but stories of Major Gor¬ 
don’s old regiment, which had been honored by an 
early place in the first line trenches, were always 
welcome to Bob’s ears, and even a little talk would 
sometimes cheer him, for he was too young to be 
gloomy all the time. 

“ They say there’s been a big British advance, 
Lieutenant,” he began, rubbing his blackened fin¬ 
gers against each other as he turned from the 
hearth. “ There’s a new lot of prisoners come in 
early this morning. They’re in the next barrack 
to me, so I’ll have a word with them if possible at 
dinner-time.” 

“ What did you hear? Where was the push 
made? ” Bob asked, his eager interest smoothing out 
the wrinkles in his forehead and giving him back 
his bojdsh look. He was standing by the table, 
stirring a bit of bread in his bowl of acorn coffee. 

“ It was near a place the French call Cam-berray, 
or something like that,” said the sergeant, diffi¬ 
dently. “ The advance was led by General Byng. 
I got that much last night through a knot-hole in the 

304 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


wall, from a Frenchman who’s chummy with me 
and speaks a bit of English.” 

“ Cambrai, I guess,” exclaimed Bob, forgetting 
his breakfast as he stared into space with thoughtful 
eyes. “ I wonder how much it means! ” 

“ Don’t know, sir, but I’ll find out all I can,” 
promised the sergeant, relieved to see the look of 
bitter depression gone for the moment from Bob’s 
face. “ They can’t prevent the men talking to¬ 
gether a good bit—we’re so crowded up like, in our 
barrack.” 

The last two weeks had brought a crowd of 
French and British prisoners to the camp until it 
was filled to overflowing. But with every new 
arrival, rumor stole about that the Germans on the 
western front had paid a deadly price for each man 
captured, and that a far greater number of soldiers 
from the German lines were in the hands of the 
Allies. 

But this was as much good news as Bob and 
Sergeant Cameron could summon to cheer them. 
No letters had reached them, nor any news that 
their own had been sent on. They might have been 
on a desert island for all the communication they 
could obtain with America. The little money Bob 
had hoarded was spent at last, and he suffered 
greatly from the monotonous and meagre diet. 
His repeated requests for advances of money from 
305 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


the Commandant had met with no reply, and he had 
long since ceased to expect any. 

Sergeant Cameron at first had put a cheerful in¬ 
terpretation on this indifference and neglect of the 
prisoners. “ It’s plain they are hard up. Lieu¬ 
tenant,” he said hopefully, “ for they can’t spare us 
a word or a thought. They have to keep the war 
going at all costs.” 

“ I think they just don’t care what becomes of 
us,” returned Bob, in one of his hopeless moments. 
He had nerved himself to endure his captivity 
bravely, but the everlasting monotony and priva¬ 
tion were harder for his active nature to bear than 
the fiercest battle. A letter from home, telling him 
that they knew where he was and trusted to his 
pluck and endurance would have done wonders for 
him, but none took the trouble to forward a letter 
into the heart of Prussia, to a prisoner from the 
nation that Germany now hated even beyond her 
hate for England—because it had foiled her 
imagined victory. 

However, no one who is in reasonable health and 
not suffering keenly can be miserable all day long. 
At any rate Bob could not, and the fits of brooding 
that worried Sergeant Cameron did not last more 
than an hour or two. After breakfast Bob went 
outside and took a walk along his wired-in alley in 
the not very cheerful company of a British colonel 
306 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


who had recently been captured and couldn’t get 
over the exasperating annoyance of being taken 
away just when he was most needed. He occupied 
Bob’s old room and met his advances with friendli¬ 
ness, but had not recovered spirits enough to do 
more than talk about the beastly bad luck of his 
having managed to run right against that Boche 
patrol. Bob told him the rumors of General Byng’s 
advance and awakened a spark of real interest in the 
Britisher, as well as another burst of anger at his 
own impotence. 

“ To think I might have been there! ” exclaimed 
the captive colonel with longing eyes, a flush com¬ 
ing over his lean, weather-worn cheek. “ We’re 
out of luck, young fellow, and that’s the truth—but 
I had some of it, at any rate.” 

“ Yes,” sighed Bob, vague thoughts of some 
desperate attempt at escape floating through his 
mind, to be impatiently dismissed at sight of the 
endless sentries patrolling their lengths of wire 
alleys. “ A kangaroo with a machine gun might 
get away,” he thought idly, “ but I certainly can’t.” 

The sun had not appeared for the past two days, 
hiding behind thick, gray clouds which gave a 
melancholy tone to the dreary winter landscape. 
Bob felt inclined to blame it as being a Prussian sun 
and unsympathetic to shivering young Americans 
whose fire-wood was not furnished in sufficient 
307 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


quantities. But it peeped out, mistily, an hour later 
when Bob went back to Bertrand, hoping for a 
change in his comrade’s heavy, feverish stupor. 
The sick man still lay with closed eyes, breathing 
fast and hard, but as Bob approached him, his lids 
flickered open and his bright eyes fixed themselves 
upon Bob’s face. 

“ A little water, comrade,” he murmured, the 
ghost of his old graciousness of manner lingering in 
his feeble voice. 

Bob rejoiced at his words, his first sensible utter¬ 
ance in many hours, and hastened to obey his 
request. As he bent over the bed, raising the 
Frenchman’s thin frame with one arm to hold the 
water to his hot lips, Bertrand whispered, “You 
have been a friend, mon garpon ,—many thanks, 
while I have breath to say it! ” He panted as he 
spoke, but his bright eyes turned to Bob’s with a 
glance of affectionate gratitude, and their intelli¬ 
gence was for the moment unclouded. “ If I must 
die in prison—in an enemy’s country—it is some¬ 
thing, comrade, to have your friendly face so 
near at hand. We are true Allies,—France and 
America.” 

He fell back gasping, while Bob, his own eyes 
blurred with quick tears of pity and understanding, 
dipped a handkerchief in the cold water and laid it 
over Bertrand’s burning forehead. 

308 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


" You’re not going to die,” lie said, doggedly, 
though his voice was choked as he spoke and his 
grim face belied his hopeful words. “ I’m going to 
get that doctor now, if I have to storm the Com¬ 
mandant in his own den.” This he announced with 
a determination that took no thought as yet of ways 
and means. 

Tie rose from beside the cot, where Bertrand lay 
exhausted after his battle for breath to speak with, 
and strode toward the door. Outside he could hear 
the prisoners marching toward the kitchen and the 
German guard was unlocking the officers’ rooms for 
dinner. Bob waited for his own door to open, his 
purpose unwavering to demand attention for 
Bertrand’s desperate need, no matter what retribu¬ 
tion any violence might bring upon himself. He 
did not intend to wait for a word with Sergeant 
Cameron, but rapidly pieced together his German 
to address the guard as soon as the door opened. 
But when it did open, Bob’s set face wavered almost 
to a smile with the quick relief of it. He would not 
have to engage just then, anxious and hungry as he 
was, on the doubtful struggle with the powers above 
him, for behind the guard stood the short, alert fig¬ 
ure of the doctor, wrapped in a gray uniform over¬ 
coat, his face reddened by the frosty air. 

Bob felt almost as though the German were a 
friend as he stepped eagerly forward, fearful lest 
309 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


he should somehow escape him, saying, “ Doctor, 
thank Heaven you’ve come! Captain Bertrand is 
very ill. Why haven’t you had him taken away? ” 

The touch of indignation in his last words was 
acknowledged by the German with a slight shrug 
of the shoulders as he stepped inside the room and 
laid his medicine case on the table. “ I cannot per¬ 
form the impossible,” he said shortly, giving a keen 
glance in Bertrand’s direction. “ He is not the 
only sick man in Germany.” 

Bob checked his resentment at this cool retort, 
and gave all his attention to helping the doctor make 
the sick man more comfortable. It was evident to 
both of them that there was little to be done, for the 
medicine case was not able to furnish the doctor 
with what he wanted, and Bertrand, sunk again into 
feverish slumber, gave no answer to the questions 
put to him. At last the German put on his gloves 
and prepared to take leave, but before doing so he 
forestalled Bob’s obvious intention of protesting 
against Bertrand’s remaining any longer in the 
prison by saying irritably: 

“ Yes, yes! He shall be moved. Soon, too—he 
has been here far too long already.” He glanced 
at Bob with a look of angry dissatisfaction, whether 
at the young American himself, the sick man, or the 
German medical staff’s mismanagement, Bob did 
not know; but after a curt nod he departed, leaving 
310 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Bob ill a state of painful uncertainty during the few 
moments he passed alone with Bertrand before 
Sergeant Cameron brought in his meagre noonday 
meal. 

Just what the doctor meant to do Bob was far 
from feeling sure, and Sergeant Cameron had little 
to say, after his five weeks’ experience with German 
promises which lacked the merit of ever being per¬ 
formed. 

At five o’clock that afternoon Bob heard the 
guard at his door, and rising from a dreary revery 
by Bertrand’s side, he went to meet him. Sergeant 
Cameron was due with his supper and Bob was 
anxious for a word with him. Their patient was 
still just lingering on the borderland of uncon¬ 
sciousness. Sergeant Cameron was not yet there, 
but behind the guard came four soldiers, stretcher- 
bearers, who advanced stolidly into the little room 
with their unwieldy burden. 

Bob’s heart gave a sudden strange pang. The 
longed-for relief had come, but it was not so easy 
now to see his comrade of the long weeks just passed 
go out among strangers, too ill to wish him even a 
word of farewell. Almost dazed he stood aside, 
while the doctor followed in the stretcher-bearers’ 
wake, and ordered the French officer lifted from 
the cot. Then Bob sprang forward and helped 
with gentle hands that shook a little as he adjusted 

311 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


the blankets for the last time over his friend’s thin 
shoulders. He said huskily to the doctor, “ You’ll 
do your best for him, won’t you, Herr Doctor? ” 

The German gave a nod of assent, but said noth¬ 
ing more. Pie gave Bob an odd glance once or 
twice, and seemed more than ordinarily severe and 
constrained, giving the soldiers short, sharp orders 
which they made haste to obey. Bob said no more 
to him, and in another moment Bertrand had been 
carried out, and he was left alone. 

He sat down, looking at the empty cot, and 
mumbled angrily to himself, in the midst of his 
black depression, “ Don’t be an ass. Buck up! 
What a slacker you are, anyway—can’t you grin 
and bear it, as other fellows do? ” And all the 
while he was wondering painfully at his own weak¬ 
ness, and despising it, yet utterly unable to rise 
above it, or to take his imprisonment courageously 
as only one of the many evil chances of war. When 
Sergeant Cameron came in at last he was still 
struggling with himself, and not even the sergeant’s 
cheerful words of thankfulness that poor Bertrand 
was at last to be placed in competent hands—or so 
they hoped—could bring a ray of brightness to 
Bob’s weary brain. He drank some of his bitter 
coffee and went to bed—free for the first time in 
weeks to sleep the night through without rising to 
see if Bertrand slept—but this night he lay awake 
312 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

and wished for even the sicli man’s companion¬ 
ship. 

When the first streaks of dawn stole through the 
little window Bob sat up and looked curiously at 
the ashes on the hearth. His fire was out—that was 
the curious part of it, because he was not cold, 
though the window pane was covered with frost and 
his breath puffed into vapor. 

“ I’m hot—hot as anything,” he muttered, 
rubbing one hand over his aching forehead. 
“ Funny, for I was cold enough all night.” He 
lay down again to ponder it. 

When Sergeant Cameron came with his break¬ 
fast Bob was. still lying on the cot. The sergeant 
laid down the bowl of coffee and the armful of wood 
he carried to look keenly at the young officer’s 
flushed cheeks, as he lay blanketless in the cold 
room. “ Don’t feel well, Lieutenant? ” he faltered, 
trying to speak naturally, but reaching for Bob’s 
hand as he spoke and starting at the burning dry¬ 
ness of it. 

“ Queer,” said Bob, trying to emerge from the 
dim, feverish phantoms that obscured his thoughts, 
“ but I’ll be better after a while.” He spoke more 
cheerfully than he had done the night before. All 
present worries had suddenly faded from his mind. 
He could not seem to think of anything but what 
was very vague and far away. 

3i3 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

The next few days, during which Bob grew 
steadily worse, were hard almost beyond endurance 
to Sergeant Cameron’s anxious and devoted spirit. 
He stayed tirelessly by Bob’s bedside, until the 
German guards grew weary of ordering him away 
and let him be. Never did a sick man receive more 
faithful care or more earnest watching, and the 
doctor, at his rare visits, looked curiously more than 
once at the pale, unshaven, eager face of the old 
“ non-com,” as though he wondered at such per¬ 
sistent faithfulness. 

Bob was not suffering just then. For the first 
time in many weeks he was free, and his hot aching 
body, lying on the narrow cot, did not much trouble 
the real self that was back again on the firing line, 
hovering over the German trenches in Benton’s 
biplane, or swooping back to safety from pursuing 
guns. In quiet moments, when Sergeant Cameron 
fell into a doze by his bedside, Bob dreamed he was 
back in his barrack room at West Point, planning 
his graduation leave. Then Lucy’s face would 
come before him and her voice sound in his ears. 
His mother’s eyes would smile at him, with their 
old cheerfulness, and the war seemed very dreadful, 
but very dim and far away. 

Once, after a long time during which he had lain 
still, not even dreaming, too weary and weak to do 
more than lie dully half-asleej), Bob opened his eyes 
3H 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

with a sudden clearing of his senses. Voices were 
close beside him, and he wanted to hear what they 
said, but he could not understand them. Then he 
realized they were speaking German, and felt a 
light-headed sort of joy at his own cleverness in dis¬ 
covering it. He looked up from the knees of the 
man who stood beside his cot, and found his face 
with a difficult, slow gaze. It was* the doctor, and 
Bob’s troubled eyes fell from his face, for it was 
stern and frowning. He met another glance, as a 
second man bent over him, and this face arrested his 
attention by its difference from the doctor’s light 
hair and fair skin. The stranger had black smooth 
hair, dark, sparkling eyes, and an olive complexion. 
Bob could see his face plainly, for it was near him 
as the unknown bent over him from his short height. 
He wanted to ask, “ Who are you? ” but the effort 
seemed too great to make, and before he had sum¬ 
moned strength for it, the two had left his side and 
their boots were clumping off across the room. 

Half an hour later, in the office of the Com¬ 
mandant, the secretary of the Spanish Embassy at 
Berlin urged his case strongly. He had an ally 
more powerful than his arguments in the fever it¬ 
self, which was bringing a look of worn anxiety to 
the doctor’s face. He had not time nor medicine 
enough for the few patients the camps now held, 
and the prospect of a wide-spread eiridemic was 
3i5 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


horrible to his harassed and order-loving soul. The 
conference was a short one, but the Spanish Secre¬ 
tary went back to Berlin with a signed recommenda¬ 
tion for Bob’s removal in his pocket, and a strong 
confidence that success awaited his Ambassador, in 
his friendly prosecution of Mr. Leslie’s demand. 

Of all this neither Sergeant Cameron nor Bob 
knew anything, but on the same day Bob’s faithful 
nurse had cause for more tempered rejoicing. One 
of the lulls in the fever, during which Captain Ber¬ 
trand had been used to go about with languid foot¬ 
steps, came to Bob’s relief. To his bodily relief, 
for his mind felt almost as though he would rather 
have stayed in the delirium when he awoke again to 
the dingy darkness of his prison. But for the time 
he was much better, and the joy on Sergeant Cam¬ 
eron’s face told plainly what his desperate anxiety 
had been. Bob’s stammered thanks were quite in¬ 
adequate, but without words a new bond of friend¬ 
ship had been forged between the two, which they 
knew could never break. 

Bob ate a little bread, soaked in water, and won¬ 
dered at the weakness that would hardly let him lift 
his hand to feed himself. “ I’m pretty worthless, 
aren’t I? ” he asked, with a faint smile, then, with 
a sudden recollection of his ministrations to poor 
Bertrand he added, “ I wonder what they’ve done 
to Bertrand! How I’d like to know.” 

316 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


“ You haven’t had any letters from home, Ser¬ 
geant? Nothing for me? ” was another repeated 
question. The sergeant’s reluctant denial cast 
Bob’s spirits down heavily, but in spite of all he 
convalesced—only, as both he and Sergeant Cam¬ 
eron knew, he would succumb again as Bertrand 
had done unless his youth and health could fight 
more strongly for him. 

“ Funny dreams I had,” he said one day to 
Sergeant Cameron, as he sat over his meagre break¬ 
fast. “ I used to think I was at home, then I’d be 
fighting again—I never got back to prison, there 
was some comfort in that. One time I thought I 
saw a man here with the doctor—a stranger with 
dark hair and eyes. He looked so different from 
these Germans—not like a Frenchman either. I 
wonder what I was dreaming of? ” 

“ Have a little of the bread, sir,” suggested Ser¬ 
geant Cameron. He was rather non-committal 
that morning. A new British prisoner had just 
whispered to him of General Byng’s forced retreat 
from a part of his hard-won gains, and the old sol¬ 
dier was torn with longing to get back on to the 
field. “ I might have done more if I’d stayed with 
the Major on Governor’s Island,” he thought 
bitterly, then remembering Bob’s need with a quick 
rush of generosity he took back his own words. 

But Bob was more fortunate in his illness than 
3i7 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


he or Sergeant Cameron could guess. Before long 
it was made plain to them. A German officer 
visited Bob’s room and told him with brief phrases 
in uncertain English of the negotiations for his ex¬ 
change. 

It was almost too much joy for one so weak and 
ill as Bob, and in the midst of his rejoicing his 
thoughts turned sadly to his faithful companion. 

“ Oh, Sergeant,” he said the night the good news 
came, “ I can’t bear to have all the luck! It isn’t 
fair.” 

“ Never mind that, my lad,” answered the brave 
old veteran, forgetting all titles of respect in the 
earnestness of the moment. “ I’ll do well enough 
here, but you’d not have stayed with me long. 
Thank God you can get out in time.” 

* * * * * * * 

Ten days later, on a bright frosty morning, Mr. 
, Leslie stood waiting at a little railway station on 
the Swiss frontier. He took little heed at first of 
the crowd around him, whose voices, high and low 
pitched, stern, anxious, hopeful or merry, as they 
spoke for busy government officials, Red Cross 
workers, or for the mothers, wives or children of 
returning prisoners, sounded in his ears. In a babel 
of French, German, Flemish and English they were 
giving voice to their impatient hopes and lingering 
fears, until Mr. Leslie’s tumultuous thoughts seemed 
3i8 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


to become a part of theirs, and he turned to look at 
the picturesque waiting groups with an under¬ 
standing sympathy in his kind eyes. 

His face was rather weary, and his ready smile a 
little slower than when he had left America such a 
short while before. Even in peaceful Switzerland 
some of the great war’s tragedy had been vividly 
unrolled before him. His search for Bob, through 
the Spanish Embassy at Berlin, had been a short 
one, for American prisoners were few and easily 
identified, but after that had come hopeless days of 
waiting in which he had looked failure in the face. 
The German government showed no inclination to 
set Bob free, and Mr. Leslie would have gone home 
unsuccessful if the prisoner he sought had not be¬ 
come a trial and menace to the prison camp that 
harbored him. Mr. Leslie blessed the fever as he 
waited for the train that was bringing Bob to the 
frontier. This realization of his highest hopes 
brought a warm flood of joy to his heart as he 
thought of the message that was even then winging 
its way across the sea. 

Suddenly a little commotion rose among the 
crowd of people. They cried out and pointed 
around the bend of track, among the trees. At Mr. 
Leslie’s side a little girl begged to be raised to her 
mother’s shoulders, and the woman, as she lifted 
her, had tears streaming down her pale young face. 

319 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


The puff of smoke around the bend thickened, the 
engine whistled, and slowly the long train came into 
view. A wild cheer went up from men’s and 
women’s throats along the platform. Mr. Leslie 
swallowed hard and winked the mist from his eyes. 
His heart was beating faster than was comfortable 
as he went forward, as near as the watchful guards 
allowed, to meet the slowing train. 

Inside, stretchers were made ready for those 
prisoners—and they were many—who could not 
walk from their places; others, who had lain on their 
stretchers on stationary racks along the car, were 
lifted out by willing and tender hands. But all who 
by any exertion of courage and strength could walk 
out unassisted made shift to do so, and with these 
Bob Gordon stood up wearily and tried his legs to 
make sure they would hold him. 

“ No, I’m all right—I don’t need you, mercip 
he told a waiting attendant, not caring whether he 
spoke French or English. He was only afraid that 
his head would burst with the rush of joy that came 
at sight of that little station, with the far-off moun¬ 
tains behind it, that spot outside of Germany which 
told him he was free. He saw his feelings reflected 
in the worn faces about him—no pain had power to 
check it for that moment—and with a sudden return 
of some of his old agile strength, Bob walked from 
the car and stepped down upon the platform. 

320 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


Mr. Leslie saw him before he reached the ground. 
Through the crowd of sad and joyful welcomers he 
made a swift way to his side. He had not seen the 
boy for a year or more—not since furlough—he told 
himself, desperately forcing back the shock of pity 
and distress that smote him at sight of that thin, 
white young face and slow-moving figure. Was 
this Bob, who had never been able to move quickly 
enough? 

“ The boy’s had a fever, of course,” Mr. Leslie 
muttered, though his heart refused to think it a 
quite satisfactory explanation. 

But just then Bob saw and recognized him, and 
the old merry smile came swiftly to his lips. He 
raised his cap and waved it in a weak hurrah. 

All Mr. Leslie’s conflicting emotions vanished in 
the swift rush of one thought—whatever he had been 
through, Bob was free! “Hello! Hello!” he 
shouted, hardly knowing what he said. 

“You, Cousin Henry! How on earth-” 

cried Bob, thrilling between astonishment and utter 
happiness as Mr. Leslie, carefully avoiding a 
wounded French soldier’s toddling little son, 
reached past the guards to grasp Bob’s outstretched 
hand. 


321 


CHAPTER XVIII 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

The soldier at the telegraph office on Governor’s 
Island has a busy time of it—especially since the 
outbreak of war. Cablegrams are nothing uncom¬ 
mon to him—he is prepared for anything. But 
that did not prevent his rising from his place in a 
burst of excitement one cold morning toward the 
end of January, with a yellow paper in his hand. 

“ What do you think? ” he demanded of the man 
who had just come in to relieve him. “ Listen to 
this: 4 To Major James Gordon: Exchanged; all 
well; signed, Leslie.’ ” 

“What? Bob Gordon?” exclaimed the other, 
somewhat disrespectfully but with great heartiness. 
“ Say, isn’t that fine? You’d better tell the Major 
in double-quick.” 

The outgoing operator took his advice and sat 
down before the telephone. In a moment he had 
Major Gordon on the wire. “ Cablegram, sir. 
Shall I proceed? ” 

“ Yes—yes—go ahead.” Major Gordon’s voice 
was not very steady. The soldier promptly gave 
the message, in the cheerful tone of a good-hearted 
322 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


fellow who knew he was communicating the best of 
news. He and his mate had seen Bob on furlough 
and graduation leave—he seemed still more a West 
Point cadet than an officer. They had a very 
friendly feeling for him. 

“Thanks!” came Major Gordon’s voice as he 
hung up, and the word sounded as though he 
meant it. 

“ Must have been in a bad way if the Germans 
let him go,” commented the relief, sitting down to 
work. 

“ He’ll get back to the fight again, though— 
mark my words,” was the other man’s thoughtful 
prophecy. 

Major Gordon had just come home from a long 
afternoon’s inspection of Q. M. stores when the tele¬ 
phone rang. He had looked and felt both tired 
and sad but in two minutes all was changed. When 
he turned away after taking that short message his 
eyes had regained their old brightness, his lips 
parted in a smile as merry as Bob’s own, the little 
stoop to his shoulders straightened, as with a quick, 
eager stride he reached the foot of the stairs and 
shouted for the whole house to hear, “ Sally! Lucy! 
Bob’s exchanged! ” 

In an hour the whole post knew of it, and half the 
garrison was at the Gordons’ door with joyful 
greetings. But for a little while Lucy could not 

323 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


go down to welcome them, and Marian took her 
place when Julia and Anne came to rejoice with 
her over the long awaited message. Lucy had not 
cried in many days, and her courage had stood by 
her until Marian marveled at her calm cheerful¬ 
ness, but now she could be brave no longer. She 
sank down among the pillows of her little sofa and 
did not try to restrain the tears of joy and gratitude 
that poured down her cheeks. It seemed too good 
to be true—beyond belief—and more than once in 
that brief half hour Lucy raised her head and looked 
with tear-wet eyes from the window at the familiar 
landmarks of the post, to reassure herself that she 
was not in a happy dream. “ Bob’s safe—he’s out 
of prison,” she said over and over, to hear how the 
words sounded, and what finally led her to dry her 
eyes and leave her refuge on the sofa was the eager 
desire to show Marian the gratitude she could not 
yet give Mr. Leslie for his generous devotion. 

Next to her longing to hear from Bob by his own 
hand, Lucy wished to see her friend Captain Jour- 
din and tell him of Bob’s freedom. She had seen 
real sympathy and interest in the Frenchman’s 
bright, dark eyes, and she thought he might be able 
to tell her more about Bob’s release than they had 
guessed from the few words of Mr. Leslie’s cable. 
Dispatches from Washington, following shortly 
after, told no more than the bare fact of the ex- 

324 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


change, and it seemed unlikely that they could learn 
anything else for several days. 

“ It all depends on their reason for letting him 
go,” said Captain Brent at the Gordons’ that night. 
“ They were either very anxious to get an aviator of 
their own back again—or else he was released for 
some other reason.” Captain Brent evaded the 
probable “ other reason,” as Mr. Leslie had done in 
Lucy’s hearing. He guessed, as Major Gordon 
did, that Bob was either ill or wounded, but Major 
Gordon felt confident, from the “ all well ” of Mr. 
Leslie’s message, that there was no ground for 
heavy anxiety in his behalf. 

“ But do you think he’ll go back to fight? How 
I wish we could see him and find out everything! ” 
cried Luc}y with longing in her eyes. 

“ You may be sure he’ll go back as soon as pos¬ 
sible,” declared Captain Brent. “ But I think they 
might give him a month’s leave to come home—they 
probably will.” 

“ Oh, don’t you suppose Captain Jourdin would 
come to see us if you asked him?” Lucy begged. 
“ You see he’s an aviator and so is Bob and I know 
he’s interested. I want so much to talk to him 
again. He’d come if you asked him, wouldn’t he, 
Captain Brent? ” 

“ Why, perhaps he would, Lucy. You see he’s 
awfully busy, and besides that he hates going about, 

325 


CAPTAIN LUCY 

because every one wants to make a hero of him, and 
he doesn’t feel like one. But I think he’ll come if 
your mother asks me to bring him. I don’t know 
much about how exchanges are being managed in 
this war myself. He might tell us something.” 

As a result of this talk Captain Jourdin did come 
to the Gordons’ one evening soon after, and though 
he could only guess at the circumstances of Bob’s 
release he told Lucy one bit of welcome news about 
her brother. 

“ The dispatches say that the American Flying 
Squadron released Von Arnheim for Lieutenant 
Gordon. The squadron must think highly of your 
son’s ability, Madame,” he said to Mrs. Gordon, 
with a light in his brown eyes, “for they have given 
up a famous man to secure his freedom. I met Von 
Arnheim once—over Rheims. I thought he had 
me for a while. I still have a bullet he gave me 
somewhere in my shoulder-bone.” 

“ How did you get away? ” asked Lucy, breath¬ 
lessly, forgetting Captain Brent’s caution not to 
ask the pilot about his exploits. 

“ Oh, I flew away,” said Captain Jourdin, laugh¬ 
ing. “ I just turned tail and, as they say here, 
4 beat it.’ ” 

“ Do you think Bob will go back to the war? ” 
asked Marian, shyly. 

“ Why not, Miss? Of course he will—though 
326 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

perhaps he may need rest for a time,” Captain 
Jourdin added, with a flicker of meaning in his eyes. 
“ Perhaps they will give him a furlough at home. 
In that case we can fly together here. I shall meet 
him with much pleasure.” 

He rose a moment later to take leave, and Cap¬ 
tain Brent, lingering a few moments after him, 
said, “ Do you know what he’s hoping for? He’s 
no end cheerful lately. Some doctor in New York 
is doing wonders for his ankle. He even promises 
Jourdin that he can get back into the service. The 
French surgeons will give him every chance to 
pass.” 

“Well, I should think so!” cried Lucy with 
enthusiasm. “ Wouldn’t that be great? I sup¬ 
pose he’ll do all those wonderful feats over again. 
It must be fun thinking about the great things 
you’ve done, even if you don’t want to talk them 
over.” 

“You bet it must be!” said Captain Brent, 
smiling. “ You’ll see Bob wearing no end of 
medals and crosses yet. He’s got the true aviator’s 
spirit. I must get back to my quarters and go to 
bed,” he added, as Lucy gave him a delighted smile 
at this praise of her brother. “We are out on 
parade to-morrow. Every airplane that can wrig¬ 
gle its propeller is to fly, so I’ll have to be on the 
field early.” 


327 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


No part of the post’s war activity was so absorb¬ 
ing to Marian as the aviation school. At Captain 
Brent’s words her eyes brightened with eager in¬ 
terest, as she inquired of him the hours for which 
the trial flights were scheduled. 

“ We’ll go, Lucy,” she said, and Lucy laughed 
agreement. 

“ Don’t leave any machines around loose, Cap¬ 
tain Brent,” she cautioned, “ or you’ll find Marian 
curled up in the observer’s seat in disguise. If 
Bob comes home I know she means to persuade 
him somehow to take her up.” 

Marian was still rather timid about sudden 
dangers or emergencies, but the smooth, swift flight 
of an airplane seemed utterly delightful to her, and 
as far back as September, in the midst of her 
shy reserve, she had understood Bob’s longing 
for a place in this splendid new arm of the serv¬ 
ice. 

She and Lucy were early among the crowd that 
thronged the borders of the aviation field on the 
following afternoon, and as one machine after the 
other was rolled out and, gliding down the field on 
its little wheels, rose toward the clear sunny sky, 
Marian watched them with sparkling eyes. Cap¬ 
tain Jourdin was in one of them, and Lucy picked 
his machine out at every swerve and loop, by the 
swift, easy evolutions he performed, so far above 
328 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


their heads that sometimes airplane and pilot 
looked a gyrating speck among the clouds. 

“ Marian, I think my neck will break in a min¬ 
ute ! ” she exclaimed at last, recalling her thoughts 
from visions of Bob’s future as Captain Brent had 
so generously predicted it, while she closed her 
eyes for a second against the blue, dazzling heavens, 
across which the airplanes swooped and darted. 
“ There’s Julia,” she said a moment later. “ I’m 
going over to speak to her.” 

Lucy walked back from the field a little to join 
her friend. Other inspections were in progress 
on the parade, where a battalion of infantry was 
marching in review. Over the music of the band 
as it played one of ITarry Lauder’s stirring airs 
that made the soldiers’ feet move faster, Lucy said 
to Julia: 

“ They’re fine, aren’t they? But don’t you still 
miss the old Twenty-Eighth? It doesn’t seem as 
though any troops look as they did.” 

The music stopped, and Julia answered, looking 
at the little reviewing party advancing toward the 
companies, “ I think one reason all the men here 
have done so well is because the old regiment gave 
them such a splendid example. They were first 
in the trenches—think what that means.” 

“ Bob said Mr. Harding was so proud,” said 
Lucy, softly. “ Oh, I wish we could hear some- 

329 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


thing about him! When I think of the night he 
said good-bye so cheerfully at the dock, I can’t 
realize that he may never come back. I feel 
ashamed to have been thinking all the time of Bob.” 

“Goodness, you needn’t,” said Julia, giving 
Lucy’s arm a friendly squeeze. “ But after Bob’s 
wonderful good fortune I can’t help feeling more 
hopeful about other people. It seems as if there 
were a big chance for everybody.” 

“You and Marian are a nice little pair of 
optimists,” remarked Lucy, musingly. “ Still, I 
sort of think you’re right.” 

“ Let’s get Marian and go home,” Julia sug¬ 
gested, digging her cold hands into her pockets. 
“ The flights are almost over.” 

Lucy reentered the house with red cheeks and 
out of breath, having run most of the way home 
across the snow. 

“ Isn’t it cold? ” said Marian, shivering. “ Still, 
I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” 

Lucy did not answer, for her eyes were fixed on 
a postal which the mailman had dropped, as he 
always did whatever he brought, on the post at 
the foot of the stairs. It was addressed to her, 
but—and this made Lucy stare at it with bated 
breath—it was addressed in her own writing. 
Incredulous, she pulled off her glove and picked it 
up. The writing on the other side was strange—far 
330 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


neater and smaller than Dick Harding’s, but at the 
bottom was the familiar R. H. 

“Marian!” she burst out, in a rush of bewil¬ 
dered joy, “it’s from him! Mr. Harding! Oh, 
I can’t wait! ” 

She dropped down on the lowest step of the 
stairs and Marian collapsed into an eager heap 
beside her, as she bent over the card and read: 

“ Dear Captain Lucy: Are you surprised, or 
did the dispatches saying I’m not ‘ missing ’ any 
longer get ahead of this? I cabled my family in 
the Islands to-day, and in my old coat I found this 
card and remembered my promise. I am pretty 
well knocked up still, but nothing to worry over. 
I was picked up wounded after the rumpus, by 
some women, and taken to a French farmhouse. 
Nobody knew where I was, until I got better and 
told the good people who took care of me to send 
word to our lines. Before that happened the coun¬ 
try around was heavily bombarded, and no one 
dared stir from the house that sheltered me. I am 
in a big hospital now, being fed and petted like a 
pussy-cat. My nurse says there’s no more room to 
write, so good-bye. Best wishes for Bob’s luck in 
the Flying Corps. R. H.” 


“ Oh, Lucy, how wonderful! ” cried Marian, her 
blue eyes shining, and her cheeks pink with ex¬ 
citement and delight. “ To think he should have 
33i 


CAPTAIN LUCT 

remembered you right off, and let you know he 
was safe! ” 

Lucy’s heart was beating joyfully and hard, and 
for a moment she could scarcely speak, but when 
she did it was to say with sober earnestness: 

“ If I ever get down-hearted again, Marian, just 
remind me of this. I never thought I’d see or 
hear from him again! ” 

Pride in her old friend’s constancy was not the 
greatest part of her happiness just then, but it did 
have a share in it when Major Gordon came in a 
few hours later with official confirmation of Mr. 
Harding’s safety. 

“ News doesn’t get from Washington very fast, 
Cousin James,” said Marian, as the family received 
Major Gordon’s announcement with cheerful 
calm. “ Lucy has heard already from the front.” 

After those endless days which the Gordons 
would never forget, when they waited hour after 
hour and day after day, for the news that never 
came, it seemed all at once as though good things 
were coming, almost before they were expected. 
The house was a different place in this last week, 
and more than once Lucy saw the old, bright smile 
linger on her mother’s face. 

“ Isn’t it lots nicer since Bob made the Germans 
let him go? ” William asked his sister one day after 
a moment’s thoughtful silence. 

332 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 

“ Rather,” was Lucy’s short answer, but it 
seemed as though she said much more than that. 

At last Bob’s letter came, and with the reading 
of it, some at least of the darkness that had encir¬ 
cled him was cleared away. He could not tell all 
his adventures of the past two months, but through 
the lines the quick, sympathetic hearts of those at 
home guessed, as he had known they would, of 
the loneliness and misery that had so nearly over¬ 
come his brave spirit. 

“ You never could guess what one letter would 
have meant to me,” he said, when his cautious re¬ 
serve, lest they should think him almost done for, 
was for the moment forgotten. “ If ever I have 
prisoners to guard—Boches, or I don’t care whom— 
I’ll give them their letters from home. It doesn’t 
help win the war to keep them back, and it gives 
the prisoner a bitter feeling toward his captors 
that he’ll never forget as long as he lives: 

“ But I’m all right now,” he wrote cheerfully. 
“ Cousin Henry and I are in a snug little French 
village near the coast, where a lot of convalescent 
officers and men are put up for a month or so. 
It’s just perfect to me—the freedom and the feel¬ 
ing of being among friends again. Having plenty 
to eat is pretty comfortable, too. Once or twice 
I’ve caught Cousin Henry looking curiously at 
me, as though he thought I was never going to 
stop. I’ve tried to thank him for getting me out, 
and I’ve written the Spanish Ambassador at Berlin 
333 


CAPTAIN LUCY 


(by way of Spain), but there’s no use trying to 
tell them all I feel. You have to be in prison to 
know how it feels to get out. I only hope that 
Sergeant Cameron has got at least one of the 
packages I’ve sent him through Switzerland. Just 
let’s pray our army gets over here quickly by the 
million, and the beastly war comes to an end before 
1918 is over. 

“ They say I can have leave to go home, but if 
I keep on getting well here at this rate, honestly, 
I don’t see how I can ask it. That’s for the doctor 
to decide anyway, so I won’t bother. But when 
you’re on this side and see all that’s waiting to be 
done! I don’t wonder Father feels the way he 
does about coming over, but if there is nobody be¬ 
hind us at home to send on the men and the sup¬ 
plies, where will we be? 

“ My captain sent me congratulations on my ex¬ 
change. They had tried to negotiate one before, 
to see if they could find out what had become of 
us—especially Benton. But it fell through, and 
they couldn’t discover anything. It was only the 
fever that let me out. The German they ex¬ 
changed me for is a first rate pilot. I’ve seen him 
fly, and it makes me wild to think of his getting 
back to work before I can do my bit again. It’s 
that makes a leave seem impossible, if I can get 
well here. If everybody sticks it out and does 
what he can to help win, before very long we’ll all 
be home for good. 

“ Cousin Henry sails next week, so pretty soon 
you’ll know all he has to tell about me. I’ll never 
forget how good it looked to see his face when that 
334 


AND LIEUTENANT BOB 


train drew up beside the Swiss frontier. At first 
he looked worried, but not long, for I got well so 
fast. He thinks I’m all right now. 

“ It’s only the first lap of the race that’s over, 
but I came out of it with such luck, I’m not afraid 
to face the next.” 

Lucy and Marian had taken the letter up-stairs 
to read a second time, and when it was finished 
Marian looked at her cousin anxiously, for Lucy 
had fallen into a revery, and sat with sober, 
thoughtful eyes, and close-set lips. Marian 
thought she knew what the doubt of Bob’s home¬ 
coming must mean to her. 

“ But, Lucy, he seems so well and happy,” she 
said at last, uncertainly. “ He wants so awfully 
to get back and fly.” 

Lucy raised her eyes and smiled, her chin cupped 
in her hand. 

“ I’m not worrying about him, Marian. It’s 
just that there’s a lot to think about.” 

In the long, hard days of Bob’s imprisonment 
Lucy had found the courage to endure which Bob 
himself had sought so often. And once found she 
meant to cling to it. “ Only the first lap of the 
race,” Bob had said, but to Lucy it seemed as 
though the race were half won, for never, never, 
she told herself, would she again give way to hope¬ 
less fears—no matter what dark days were ahead— 
335 


CAPTAIN LUCT 


since out of the deadly danger of battle-field 
and prison camp Bob had once come safely 
back. 


336 


















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